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LIBRIS 


BANCROFT    LIBRARY 


OOK  COMPANY 


EOIDBOOKE  SMOPPE 


TENDERFOOT  DAYS 

IN  TERRITORIAL  UTAH 


BY 

GEORGE  ROBERT  BIRD 

ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 
THE    GORHAM    PRESS 

MCMXVIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 
The  Gorham  Press,  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


Bancroi 


FOREWORD 

This  book  is  neither  a  History  nor  a  Topog- 
raphy of  the  Territory  of  Utah  in  the  early 
seventies  of  the  last  century.  The  volume  is  due 
to  the  experiences  of  an  outsider  who  tried  to  be 
impartial  in  his  views  and  sympathies.  The  per- 
sonal note,  of  course,  rings  in  this  record  of  those 
past  days.  No  onslaught  is  made  on  the  "wild 
and  woolly"  west,  nor  on  the  eccentric  religion  of 
the  majority  of  the  people. 

Through  much  peril  and  privation,  the  wild 
wastes  of  the  Territory  had  been  occupied  by  a 
people  whose  hard  toil  had  redeemed  the  desert. 
The  picture  of  life  presented  in  these  pages  is  in 
accord  with  the  facts,  the  only  changes  made  are 
in  the  names  of  some  of  the  characters. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  GOING  WEST  IN  1874    .     .     .    .  9 

II.  A  FAR  WEST  CITY 18 

III.  PILGRIMS  TO  A  MODERN  ZION  .     .  29 

IV.  CHURCH,  STATE  AND  CAMP     .     .  39 
V.  THE  CO-OPERATIVE  INDUSTRY  OF 

UTAH 49 

VI.    THE  VALLEY  SETTLEMENTS     .    .     56 
VII.    A  LONG  RIDE  THROUGH  UTAH 

VALLEY 63 

VIII.    THROUGH  SPANISH   FORK  CAN- 
YON AND  THISTLE  VALLEY  .     .    72 
IX.     OPPOSITION    TO    THE    LIBERAL 

SCHOOLS       80 

X.    BEHIND  THE  CURTAIN    ....    92 
XI.    THE  CREED  THAT  CAUSED  THE 

DEED       104 

XII.    THE  PASSING  PROPHET  .    .    .    .119 

XIII.  THE  MIXED  MULTITUDE    .     .     .129 

XIV.  THE  OLD  PROSPECTOR    .     .     .     .138 
XV.    A  LIVELY  MINING  CAMP    .     .    .154 

5 


6 

CHAPTER 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 


Contents 

PAGE 

THE    TOWN    AND    CANYON    OF 

AMERICAN  FORK 167 

TENDERFOOT  SUPERINTENDENTS  .  178 
A  TENDERFOOT'S  ROMANCE     .     .191 
MIND  AS  THE  MASTER  WORKER  .  209 
A  LATTER  DAY  VIEW  OF  A  LAT- 
TER DAY  STATE 215 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 
Sage  Brush      ....          Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

puffalos 1 6 

Great  Salt  Lake 32 

[Salt  Lake  Desert 64 

Rocky  Mountains     .....  96 
Wasatch  Mountains          .         .         .         .128 

Dead  Man's  Falls,  Little  Cottonwood       .  160 

Bears 192 


TENDERFOOT  DAYS 


TENDERFOOT  DAYS 

IN  TERRITORIAL  UTAH 
CHAPTER  I 

GOING  WEST  IN   1874 

1WAS  one  of  the  multitude  of  young  men  who 
heeded  Horace  Greeley's  advice,  "Go  West, 
young  man,  go  West!"  in  the  days  when  he  was 
the  ruling  spirit  of  the  New  York  Tribune.  Dis- 
credited as  a  prospective  president  by  the  people 
at  the  polls,  he  yet  was  accepted  by  many  as  a 
prophet  of  agricultural  authority  on  the  "Oppor- 
tunity of  the  Great  West." 

To  me,  from  boyhood,  the  word  "Mississippi" 
had  a  winsome  charm.  I  had  read  of  De  Soto  and 
the  Jesuit  Fathers  as  the  first  voyagers  on  the 
great  river  of  the  West,  of  the  Lewis  and  Clark 
explorations  by  the  pen  of  Washington  Irving  in 
his  Astoria:  and  to  go  West,  was  my  one  aim  as 
conditions  were  ripe  for  it.  The  great  lakes  to 
the  North  and  the  cane-brakes  to  the  South  were 


io  Tenderfoot  Days 

not  in  it  with  the  West  as  a  drawing  card  to  me. 

I  left  the  charmed  scenery  of  central  New  York 
state  in  the  early  spring  of  '74  headed  for  the 
wonderful  Porkopolis  of  Chicago.  That  city  was 
just  beginning  to  rise  from  the  ashes  of  the  ter- 
rible fire  of  '71  when  I  first  set  foot  in  it.  Wide 
areas  resembling  San  Francisco  in  1906  were 
black  with  the  fire's  work,  and  temporary  board 
structures  even  at  the  depots  were  in  common  evi- 
dence. But  there  was  the  tang  and  the  vim  of 
the  West  in  the  faces  of  its  hustling  population 
that  foretold  the  vigorous  growth  of  after  years. 

Crossing  Ohio,  I  passed  through  the  famous 
Western  Reserve,  supposed  to  be,  in  its  day,  the 
real  West.  When  I  saw  the  orderly  neatness  of 
farm,  road,  and  townsite,  I  smiled  at  the  invita- 
tion of  an  old  college  chum  of  the  previous  year; 
"When  you  are  in  the  West  be  sure  to  call  on  me 
in  the  Western  Reserve.  I  liva  at  Youngstown, 
Ohio.11 

The  "Father  of  Waters,"  as  the  Indians  so 
fitly  call  the  Mississippi,  was  bank-full  when  I 
crossed  it  one  Tuesday  morning.  The  prairies 
of  Illinois  and  Wisconsin  were  green  with  the 
early  spring  color  that  also  clothed  the  trees  along 
the  borders  of  this  great  stream.  I  was  not  dis- 
appointed, save  with  the  awkwardly  built  stern- 
wheel  steamers,  that  were  either  wildly  swinging 


Going  West  in   1874  n 

down  or  laboriously  puffing  up  its  course.  When 
I  stepped  off  the  cars  at  Dubuque,  Iowa,  at  last 
fairly  West,  I  delighted  in  the  breezy  speech  and 
the  freedom  of  the  people;  men  and  women  of 
adaptation  to  circumstances, — of  a  width  of  view 
like  the  plains  that  they  were  subduing. 

For  a  year  Iowa  with  its  agricultural  beauties 
along  the  Mississippi  held  me  prisoner.  Then  the 
craving  for  the  far  West  took  hold  of  me  as  I 
heard  the  accounts  of  the  returning  pioneers  of 
Kansas  or  Nebraska.  The  plague  of  locusts  had 
driven  them  back  and  they  had  returned  for  sup- 
plies for  another  start. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Uncle  Sam  was 
more  than  generous  in  his  land  gifts  at  this  time. 
The  pre-emption  laws  allowed  pioneers  to  buy 
outright  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  the  best 
level  land  in  Iowa  and  Minnesota  at  one  dollar 
and  twenty-five  cents  an  acre.  Five  years'  time 
was  given  to  pay  for  this,  no  other  obligation  was 
required  beyond  the  settler's  own  interests  to  live 
on  it  and  improve  it. 

I  saw,  as  I  travelled  west,  hundreds  of  these 
pre-emptors  at  work  building  small  sod  or  frame 
houses,  and  breaking  up  the  heavy  grassed  prai- 
ries. The  cars  to  western  Iowa  and  Minnesota 
were  crowded  every  day  with  land  seekers.  The 
Danes,  Norwegians  and  Swedes  were  mainly  in 


12  Tenderfoot  Days 

evidence;  so  new  to  the  country  that  they  could 
not  make  themselves  understood,  but  had  to  talk 
through  their  agents  when  inquiring,  or  buying. 
These  people's  descendants  of  this  day  are  the 
intelligent  and  prosperous  farmers  of  the  choicest 
locations  in  country  and  town.  Beginning  with 
nothing  but  their  brawn  and  industry,  they  are 
independent  citizens  of  the  best  prairie  states. 

I  crossed  another  great  river  at  Omaha,  the 
Missouri.  With  the  imagination  of  youth,  I  saw 
the  older  population  of  this  country  of  illimitable 
plains.  The  Pawnees,  the  Sioux,  the  Omahas, 
whose  gatherings  gave  the  name  to  Council  Bluffs, 
upon  the  Iowa  side.  I  saw  also  the  black  rolling 
tide  of  bison  racing  before  the  yelling  red  hunters 
or  before  the  redder  tongues  of  prairie  fires. 
While  I  was  denied  my  hope  of  running  down  a 
buffalo,  I  was  able  to  see  several  of  them  in  their 
wild  state,  as  I  went  farther  west.  A  great  and 
reckless  slaughter  had  thinned  them  down  but 
one  did  not  then  have  to  visit  a  government  park 
to  see  a  buffalo. 

It  was  a  great  event  in  that  day  for  the  over- 
land express  to  leave  Omaha  for  San  Francisco. 
People  made  preparation  for  this  pullman  ride 
with  all  the  gravity  of  a  sea  voyage.  Baskets  of 
supplies,  wraps,  rugs,  and  dust  coats  filled  the 
arms  of  the  passengers  boarding  the  cars. 


Going  West  in   1874  13 

The  express  averaged  sixteen  miles  an  hour, 
including  stops.  The  road-bed  was  of  very  light 
caliber  and  simply  spiked  down  without  fishplates, 
allowing  no  forty  miles  an  hour  speed.  We 
swayed  and  teetered  along  some  parts  of  the  road 
in  a  way  that  reminded  me  of  a  branch  line  on 
the  Grand  Trunk  in  Canada,  where  the  train 
dipped  and  curtseyed  in  the  cuttings  like  a  sail 
boat  on  the  lakes.  No  harm  came  of  it.  We 
stopped  often  for  fuel  and  water,  and  to  oil  up 
the  small,  wide-funneled  engine,  or  to  cool  a  hot- 
box  in  the  heavily  freighted  baggage  car. 

The  winds  of  Nebraska  are  worthy  of  men- 
tion for  they  are  in  the  business  of  blowing,  and 
if  the  people  are  much  affected  by  them,  they  are 
certainly  in  danger  of  being  the  biggest  boosters 
of  the  West.  Anyway,  I  saw  the  effect  of  these 
constant  winds  on  all  faces;  the  men  being  as  red 
as  Indians  and  the  women,  despite  the  long  poke 
bonnets  they  wore,  were  almost  as  brown.  Ma- 
dame Recamier's  cream  so  much  advertised  then, 
should  have  had  a  great  sale  in  Nebraska,  if  the 
women  were  at  all  solicitous  of  their  complexions. 
But  they  were  all  of  stern  stuff  and  did  not  mind 
the  Nebraska  breezes,  whether  hot  as  a  blast  in 
summer,  or  cold  as  a  blizzard  in  winter.  They 
were  a  people'  that  moved  as  briskly  as  their 
winds,  going  at  top  speed  in  their  buggies  and  on 


14  Tenderfoot  Days 

horseback. 

I  saw  women  riding  astride  and  they  rode  like 
cowboys.  There  were  villages  of  marmots  or 
prairie  dogs  and  these  little  canines  shared  their 
earth-holes  with  both  snakes  and  owls.  Once  in 
a  while  "Lo,"  the  Indian,  in  his  native  costume 
was  seen  on  a  hill  near-by  sitting  on  his  cayuse, 
stoically  viewing  the  white  man's  fire  wagons  as 
they  trailed  past.  These  natives  were  also  in 
evidence  at  every  eating  station,  either  to  sell 
their  bead  and  buffalo  ornaments,  or  to  share  in 
the  white  man's  fire-water. 

Those  were  the  days  of  corn-whiskey,  as  yellow 
as  gold  and  as  hot  as  fire,  and  which  keeled  over 
the  drinker  at  "forty  rods."  The  western  men 
aboard  the  cars,  filled  up  with  four  fingers  of  this 
stuff  at  every  stop.  Temperance  was  not  to  the 
fore  then  and  the  front  streets  of  railroad  towns 
were  given  up  to  saloons  of  vigorous  titles,  and 
they  were  black  with  men  from  the  cattle  ranges 
around.  These  bandy-legged  bravos  whooped 
and  rode  races  with  the  cars  and  even  wasted 
some  ammunition  in  celebration  of  the  passing 
express,  that  scarcely  out-speeded  their  ponies. 

Those  days  are  gone.  The  cowboy  is  now  his- 
toric. The  open  range  is  now  homesteaded  or 
desert-claimed  by  the  nester.  The  great  meat 
manufactory  has  passed  from  the  range,  and  is 


Going  West  in   1874  15 

now  in  the  hands  of  the  farmer,  who  stall-feeds 
his  cattle  on  the  cultivated  roots  and  grains  of 
the  ranches. 

With  the  next  morning's  sun  we  saw  the  faint 
outline  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  We  had  been 
slowly  climbing  and  the  elevation  was  sufficient 
to  lower  the  horizon  line  of  this  backbone  of  the 
continent.  I  was  interested  to  see  with  my  own 
eyes  those  mountains  made  famous  in  my  boy- 
hood days  by  the  stories  of  that  writer  for  boys, 
Captain  Mayne  Reid. 

Though  the  scenes  that  he  so  graphically  de- 
scribed were  in  the  great  range  farther  to  the 
south,  and  on  the  Mexican  border,  yet  the  name, 
Rocky  Mountains,  satisfied  me  that  I  was  in  the 
neighborhood  of  those  old  friends  Rube  and 
Geary  in  Scalp-Hunters,  or  The  War  Trail.  We 
are  more  or  less  children  and  beneath  the  layers 
of  riper  years,  lie  recumbent  the  old  imaginations 
of  youth.  So  I  sat  and  deamed  again  my  boy- 
hood hours  and  felt  young,  though  sad,  since  I 
could  never  be  a  boy  again,  nor  see  the  boy  com- 
panions of  those  book  days.  Scattered  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  globe,  some  at  sea,  some  at  antip- 
odes, some  citified  and  thus  changed;  and  one 
old  chum  gone  away  to  the  far  country  from  which 
no  traveller  returns. 

What  a  day  that  was  for  the  prospector  and 


1 6  Tenderfoot  Days 

the  cattle  man!  The  sheep-man,  so  omnipresent 
in  Australia,  was  despised  and  seldom  seen  in  this 
great  West.  The  cattle  owner  hated  the  sheep- 
man almost  as  much  as  he  did  the  Indian.  It  was 
the  day  of  gun  rule,  for  the  sheriff  and  the  con- 
stable were  persons  few  and  far  between.  The 
reprobate  was  in  the  land  by  voice  and  deed.  All 
the  dare-devils  and  the  scum  of  the  East  drifted 
this  way,  and  were  stranded  like  river  debris,  in 
these  little,  hideous  shanty  railroad  towns.  Ten 
years  earlier  these  characters  ran  everything  to 
suit  themselves.  The  war  was  still  raging,  and 
Uncle  Sam's  hands  full,  thus  giving  the  rowdy 
and  robber  full  swing  to  kill  and  steal.  Some  of 
these  gentry  were  still  about,  with  faces  hardened 
by  excess  and  crime,  yet  the  great  majority  had 
gone  to  the  greater  majority  via  the  hangman's 
rope  or  the  hands  of  the  Vigilante  Committee  and 
the  yet  quicker  way  of  the  sawed  off  shot-gun. 

Next  came  the  canyons.  I  had  always  thrilled 
at  that  word;  it  seemed  to  suggest  roaring  waters, 
Mexican  riders  and  red-men  yelling.  These  can- 
yons were  tame,  the  surveyors  had  selected  the 
best  grades  and  the  engineers  had  made  a  level 
road  for  the  rails.  We  went  orderly  along  these 
mountain  streets,  with  little  noise  beyond  the  tired 
asthmatic  cough  of  our  over-taxed  engines,  for 
we  now  had  two  engines  to  draw  us  up  these 


Going  West  in   1874  17 

heights.  How  frail  they  looked,  compared  with 
the  immense  monsters  of  to-day,  dun  colored  and 
mighty,  without  brightness  or  glitter  beyond  their 
headlight!  Our  engines  were  gaudy  ones,  brass 
bound,  bright-painted,  polished  to  the  shining 
point,  showing  all  their  works  to  the  onlooker; 
the  cylinder  and  driving-rods  working  in  full  view. 
We  halted  at  last  to  change  cars;  it  was  Ogden, 
at  the  junction  of  the  Union  and  Central  Pacific 
Railroads. 

We  saw  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  orange- 
colored  cars,  which  took  all  over-landers  to  Cali- 
fornia. I  was  not  booked  for  the  real  sea,  but 
was  bound  for  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  or  Salt  Sea, 
in  Utah  Territory.  As  I  looked  around  I  missed 
the  green  earth  and  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
plains.  I  found  that  I  was  among  rocks  of  craggy 
height,  overlooking  little  narrow  valleys,  where 
irrigation  was  needed  to  make  things  grow.  I  was 
in  the  far  West  at  last  though  I  knew  that  there 
was  a  farther  West,  which  some  day  I  meant  to 
see.  A  lazy  train  soon  started  with  the  regula- 
tion speed  of  sixteen  miles  to  the  hour  and  we 
slowly  passed  along  the  south  line  of  the  Salt 
Lake,  a  sea  so  dead  and  dreary  that  it  resembled 
the  dead  sea  of  that  memorable  land,  ancient 
Palestine.  Then  we  came,  at  last,  to  the  city  of 
the  Latter  Day  Saints, 


CHAPTER  II 

A  FAR  WEST  CITY 

"Westward  the  course  of  Empire  takes  its  way." 

Berkley 

SALT  LAKE  CITY  was  a  real  city  for  that 
day.  It  was  not  an  electrically  wired  and 
telephonic  town,  for  all  those  and  related  con- 
veniences were  then  unknown  to  the  multitude. 
The  telephone  was  yet  in  its  infancy  and  a  curious 
toy  to  the  initiated  in  electricity.  It  was  a  city 
of  twenty-five  thousand  people,  mainly  Mormons 
by  religion  and  emigration  from  the  prairie  west, 
with  a  thin  fringe  of  others  locally  known  by  way 
of  contrast  as  Gentiles. 

The  further  strange  thing  was  that  most  of 
these  adventurous  Gentiles  were  Jews.  The  He- 
brew is  an  enterprising  shopman  and  into  these 
new  valley  communities  and  freshly  organized 
mining  camps,  he  had  pushed  his  way  to  sell  his 
goods, — and  he  was  making  good  at  his  trade  as 
he  always  does  on  the  frontier. 

18 


A  Far  West  City  19 

There  was  a  sprinkling  of  the  South;  men  of 
broken  fortunes  since  the  close  of  the  Civil  War — 
who  could  not  endure  the  changes  made  by  the 
emancipation  of  the  colored  man,  and  who  pre- 
ferred to  face  their  poverty  in  new  surroundings. 
Thus  their  pride  could  not  be  offended  or  tram- 
pled on  by  former  slaves. 

There  were  men  of  the  cowboy  and  hunter 
class  with  belted  waist-line  and  prominent  gun, — 
not  exactly  gunmen,  for  these  were  usually  of  the 
professional  gambler  class,  but  men  who  knew 
how  to  use  a  gun  and  based  their  claims  upon  a 
gun.  Then  again  the  investor  and  the  traveller 
were  there  in  ever-increasing  numbers,  nosing  out 
the  golden  opportunities  always  found  in  a  newly- 
opened  country. 

For  it  must  be  remembered  that  up  to  the  time 
of  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  Utah  Territory 
was  a  closed  section  to  all  save  those  whose  af- 
filiations with  the  dominant  religion  of  the  region 
were  cordial  and  sympathetic. 

The  soldier  was  then  in  his  camp  on  the  en- 
virons of  the  city  but  this  military  host  was  resi- 
dent as  a  military  police,  keeper  of  the  peace,  and 
main  reason  why  Uncle  Sam  was  recognized  as 
overlord  of  these  mountain  valleys.  Outside  of 
these  residents,  the  rest — a  vast  majority — were 
the  peculiar  people  known  among  themselves  as 


20  Tenderfoot  Days 

the  Latter-Day  Saints. 

As  I  stood  on  Main  Street,  Eastside,  that  first 
day  in  Salt  Lake  City,  I  recalled  with  a  thrill  that 
I  had  seen  that  identical  spot  in  a  very  inferior 
picture  some  eight  years  before.  It  was  at  a  show 
given  by  Artemus  Ward  of  humorous  fame,  in  a 
lecture  given  by  him  in  the  Egyptian  Hall,  Lon- 
don. This  gifted  fun-maker  was  in  the  last  stages 
of  pulmonary  tuberculosis,  with  hatchet  features 
telling  of  the  swiftly  approaching  end.  Yet  his 
eyes  were  bright  and  his  speech  alight  with  humor. 
With  wit  he  rehearsed  his  story  of  the  Mormons, 
and  apologized  for  the  unusual  inferiority  of  these 
picture  daubs  to  illustrate  Utah  scenes.  He 
showed  with  comical  enthusiasm,  "the  Main 
Street,  Eastside,"  which  he  further  explained  was 
"the  eastside  of  Main  Street,  Salt  Lake  City"; 
and  the  one  story  brick  block,  faithfully  pictured, 
was  the  very  block  and  corner  where  I  now  stood 
recalling  this  former  introduction.  This  sad-faced 
funmaker  was  long  gone  to  his  rest,  but  his  laugh 
seemed  to  echo  about  the  locality. 

The  climate  here  is  genial.  Something  of  the 
oriental  was  given  to  the  looks  of  the  city  by  the 
wide  streets,  lined  with  mountain  ash  shade  trees, 
by  whose  roots  water  courses  bubbled.  Little 
brooks  flowed  down  each  side  of  the  principal 
streets,  keeping  green  in  the  heat  of  the  summer 


A  Far  West  City  21 

the  park-like  spaces  between  the  walks  and  the 
roadway  proper. 

Much  good  judgment  and  taste  was  evidenced 
in  the  platting  of  the  city  by  its  first  settlers,  and 
it  is  the  more  remarkable  since  the  settlement  was 
made  in  great  privation  and  after  a  long  overland 
journey.  Somehow  religious  enthusiasm  refines 
and  exalts  taste  and  gives  an  impulse  to  look  well 
in  one's  appearances. 

The  old  time  poverty  of  the  first  days  was  evi- 
denced by  an  occasional  adobe  house  of  small  and 
mean  build  here  and  there  amid  edifices  of  the 
popular  style,  clapboarded,  Venetian  shuttered, 
and  wide-verandaed  buildings  of  the  days  before 
the  Civil  War. 

I  was  in  search  of  a  newly-married  couple  to 
whose  hospitality  I  bore  letters  of  introduction. 
Dr.  Welch  and  his  bride,  whose  cherry-colored 
cheeks  bespoke  her  youthfulness,  were  settled  on 
Second  South  Street,  near  the  city's  center;  and  it 
was  not  long  before  I  was  seated  at  their  table 
and  enjoying  their  talk.  The  Doctor  was  a  sol- 
dier of  the  late  war  and  bore  traces  of  the  priva- 
tion and  strain  of  that  awful  strife  between 
brothers. 

Already  the  seeds  of  a  fatal  disease  were  at 
work,  which  within  a  few  years  were  to  cut  him 
down  in  the  prime  of  life.  War  is  not  alone 


22  Tenderfoot  Days 

deadly  at  the  cannon's  mouth  but  it  slays  long 
after  the  fight.  The  roll  is  not  complete  that 
gives  the  long  list  of  wounded  and  killed  in  a 
battle's  campaigns,  but  in  the  tragedies  of  incom- 
plete lives,  as  in  this  case,  where  a  young  bride 
lost  her  love  and  hopes  soon  after  marriage.  We 
knew  nothing  of  this  coming  shadow  as  we  chat- 
ted of  Utah's  present  condition  and  future  pros- 
pects. 

While  these  young  people  were,  in  a  sense,  new- 
comers themselves,  yet  their  experiences  in  this 
western  territory  amid  Mormon  surroundings  af- 
forded me  much  good  advice  and  direction  for  my 
own  course  of  action. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  antagonize 
everything  that  I  did  not  approve.  In  this  I  de- 
parted somewhat  from  the  course  pursued  by 
many  recent  visitors  and  writers  from  the  days 
of  Artemus  Ward  to  the  year  of  my  own  arrival 
in  Salt  Lake  City. 

Of  course  Artemus  Ward  was  a  humorist,  using 
incorrect  spelling  to  throw  the  spell  of  fun  over 
his  readers;  and  I  recalled  his  account  of  his  ex- 
perience with  Utah  wives,  as  follows: — 

4 'Cum  and  hev  wives  sealed  to  yu!'  said  a 
bunch  of  strappin'  yung  wimen  tu  me,  wen  I  kim 
out  of  ther  meetin'  house.  'Kum  and  build  up 
Zion  in  our  midst.  We  welkum  yu!' 


A  Far  West  City  23 

"  'No  yer  don't!'  sez  I,  a  tearin'  myself  loos 
frum  ther  buksum  arms.  4Nary  a  seal  frum  me!' 
and  I  fled  the  sene,  gatherin'  up  my  coat  and  hat, 
and  left  the  city,  which  is  inhabited  by  the  most 
onprincipuled  and  dishonust  pepul  which  I  ever 


met.' 


Now  this  statement,  with  others  printed  in  fun, 
and  read  wherever  Artemus  Ward's  books  were 
read,  caused  great  wrath  among  the  Mormons. 
They  had  to  face  many  gross  caricatures  and  mis- 
representations of  their  peculiar  doctrines  and 
practices,  on  the  part  of  subsequent  writers  and 
visitors  who  too  freely  followed  the  example  of 
the  Yankee  showman,  Artemus  Ward. 

Every  ward  of  this  city  of  the  Saints  had  its 
meeting  house.  The  sound  and  aroma  of  religion 
were  more  evident  than  those  of  education.  To 
go  to  meeting  was  the  acme  of  life  and  it  was 
truly  surprising  to  see  with  what  zeal  the  crowd 
attended  these  meetings  when  nothing  but  the 
commonplace  occurred. 

In  those  days  and  in  that  religious  life  there 
was  no  need  of  a  fulsome  and  flaming  advertise- 
ment to  draw  the  crowd.  Just  the  announcement, 
and  like  the  flies  settling  on  the  kitchen  back-door, 
the  crowd  came  and  settled  in  their  seats  to  remain 
to  the  last. 

It  all  goes  to  show  what  suffering  and  sacrifice 


24  Tenderfoot  Days 

for  one's  religious  faith  will  do  for  the  first  ad- 
herents of  a  religion.  Opposition  to  the  follies 
of  faith  seems  to  strengthen  those  follies.  We 
read  that  the  ublood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of 
the  church,"  as  in  the  times  of  the  early  Christian 
persecutions. 

I  was  soon  seated  in  a  packed  row  of  people  in 
the  rear  of  one  of  the  ward  meeting  houses.  I 
was  anxious  to  see  these  people  at  one  of  their 
everyday  services.  They  seemed  to  the  eye  to  be 
just  like  common  people  such  as  you  meet  in  any 
church  gathering.  Plain,  clean,  simple  and  just 
ordinary  bright  folks. 

They  evidently  took  their  religion  seriously  and 
not  as  a  social  function.  I  imagine,  as  most  of 
them  were  middle  aged,  that  they  felt  all  they  had 
passed  through  to  win  a  home  and  place  for  their 
faith.  They  evidently  regarded  the  broad-built, 
and  bearded  men,  on  the  platform,  as  inspired 
teachers,  and  listened  to  some  very  ordinary  talk 
quite  spell-bound. 

Of  course  there  were  some  young  people  there ; 
the  vacant-eyed  youth  and  the  giggling  girl  who 
had  only  to  glance  at  each  other  to  see  something 
funny  in  that  simple  fact.  No  religious  meeting 
would  be  complete  without  that  rear  appendage 
of  risible  youthfulness ;  and  the  huge  joke  of 
pinning  John's  pants  pocket  to  Eliza's  skirt 


A   Far  West  City  25 

flounces.  Such  opportunities  for  rare  and  rich 
calf-love  as  a  church  meeting  afforded,  could  not 
be  overlooked  even  in  such  a  serious  gathering  as 
a  Mormon  ward  house  meeting. 

An  Apostle  spoke  at  this  gathering.  He  re- 
joiced in  the  common  name  of  Smith,  and  yet  it 
was  almost  a  royal  name  in  that  locality.  For 
was  not  Joseph  Smith  the  Seer,  Revelator  and 
Leader  of  these  Latter  Day  Saints? 

This  apostle  was  a  relative  of  the  martyr  of 
this  church  who  fell  the  victim  of  a  Missouri  mob 
of  fanatics,  who  did  nothing  more  by  their  crime 
of  murder  than  to  feed  the  flame  of  a  hated  faith. 
He  was  a  tall,  bearded  man.  Here  let  me  remark 
that  almost  all  these  men  of  leadership  were 
apostolically  bearded.  It  seems  the  part  of  all 
religious  reformers  or  zealots  to  cultivate  long 
hair,  both  on  the  head  and  the  face.  The  razor- 
cleaned  manly  countenance  of  to-day  was  then  a 
sign  of  infancy  and  lack  of  manhood.  The  hairy 
man  was  the  popular  man,  and  no  thought  was 
given  to  the  lack  of  sanitation  of  mouth,  nose, 
head,  neck  or  collar  in  those  days  when  "germs" 
were  ignored. 

Apostle  Smith  was  eloquent  in  the  longwinded, 
adjectival  way  of  speech.  He  certainly  was  well 
up  in  stock  phrases  and  popular  platitudes;  and 
brought  the  handclap  now  and  then  like  any  po- 


26  Tenderfoot  Days  \ 

litical  ward  speaker.  Experiences,  scripture,  re- 
count of  past  persecutions,  the  claims  of  their 
faith  and  exhortations  to  live  their  religion  con- 
stituted the  subject  matter  of  this  address. 

They  had  the  long  prayer  as  well  as  the  long 
speech.  The  Apostle  Snow,  a  man  of  snowy  head 
in  keeping  with  his  name,  led  this  devotion.  It 
reminded  me  of  the  long  prayer  of  Pastor  Wil- 
kins,  in  the  days  of  my  earliest  youth,  who  prayed 
about  forty  minutes,  with  rousing  shouts  at  times 
as  if  the  Lord  was  inattentive  to  his  words,  while 
my  little  legs  hung  aching  from  a  hard  seat; 
forcibly  kept  still  by  a  mother's  hand  placed  on 
them  during  this  solemnity  of  the  church  service. 

Another  Apostle,  Orson  Hyde  by  name  as  I 
recall  it,  then  spoke.  We  were  in  Zion  and  the 
headquarters  was  prolific  of  leaders,  and  many  of 
the  Apostolic  twelve  and  a  multitude  of  Patriarchs 
of  the  Church  were  always  available  for  what  was 
voluble. 

In  this  last  speaker  I  beheld  a  typical  Mormon 
as  I  had  imagined  him  to  be.  He  was  heavy  set 
and  "bearded  as  the  pard,"  rather  coarse  of 
feature  and  more  carnal  than  spiritual  in  his  gen- 
eral appearance.  His  heavy  voice  and  dogmatic 
manner  were  in  keeping  with  himself  and  his  sub- 
ject, as  he  thundered  denunciations  of  divine 
wrath  on  the  Gentiles  who  were  invading  this  re- 


A  Par  West  City  27 

ligious  city  and  bringing  in  their  corruptions.  He 
meant  the  mining  camp  morals  of  the  adjacent 
canyons  and  gulches;  and  also  the  wicked  eastern 
world  which  the  Mormon  had  shaken  off  and 
which  had  persecuted  him  from  city  to  city.  It 
was  the  regular  religious  tirade  which  makes  splen- 
did copy  for  the  Speaker  who  talks  in  meeting  to 
meeting-house  people,  and  which  invariably  con- 
cluded the  proceedings  of  these  ward  meetings. 

I  took  a  stroll  about  the  town.  There  were  two 
good  hotels.  The  Walker  House,  which  was  kept 
for  the  aliens  who  came  to  Zion.  That  is  to  say 
the  miner,  the  millionaire,  the  tourist  and  the  gam- 
bler. All  were  well-dressed  men  who  gathered 
here  and  defensively  spoke  against  Mormonism 
as  though  this  atmosphere  of  religion  was  likely 
to  rob  them  of  their  unbelief.  It  was  rather  funny 
to  hear  so  many,  whose  religion  was  homeopathic 
indeed,  talking  so  religiously.  It  was  in  the  air 
then  and  shows  how  psychologically  catching  the 
religious  idea  is  even  when  we  do  not  like  it.  It 
spreads  like  measles  and  we  have  to  have  it  be- 
fore we  can  get  over  it.  I  laughed  at  this  ridicu- 
lous ridicule.  Some  of  these  Mormon-haters  in- 
dulged in  much  of  this  kind  of  talk  while  discuss- 
ing topics  of  which  they  had  such  small  experi- 
ence. 

The  other  hotel  was  the  Townsend  House,  a 


28  Tenderfoot  Days 

much  more  ancient  structure  and  the  gathering 
place  of  the  Mormons  and  those  of  Mormon 
sympathies.  Here  the  talk  was  of  the  past  and 
the  persecutions  by  the  people  of  the  States;  and 
certain  disloyal  and  seditious  sayings  were  very 
common.  The  wounds  of  the  past  were  not 
healed  and  the  arm  of  authority,  in  the  form  of 
Camp  Douglas,  with  its  regiment  of  United 
States  regulars,  was  a  constant  subject  of  heated 
speech. 

It  was  very  evident  that  two  sides  were  here, 
and  no  fence  between  them  of  sufficient  width  for 
a  comfortable  seat  for  the  non-committal,  easy- 
going man  who  wanted  to  be  friendly  with  all  and 
a  foe  to  none. 

The  new  element,  known  as  Gentile  in  the 
phraseology  of  this  region,  had  its  belligerent 
news-sheet,  the  Salt  Lake  Tribune.  It  had  able 
men  devoted  to  its  sarcastic  bitter  gibes  at  the 
territory's  majority  of  people.  To  offset  this 
sheet  the  Mormon  church  had  The  Deseret  News, 
and  it  was  just  as  ably  edited  and  just  as  caustically 
worded  as  its  opponent.  It  was  a  real  treat  in 
comparative  hatred  to  read  both  these  papers  in 
one  morning. 


CHAPTER  III 

PILGRIMS  TO  A  MODERN  ZION 

"Far  from  the  worldly  crowds  and  strife, 
To  a  vision^d  city,  they  toiled  their  weary  way, 
Seeking  amid  towering  hills  the  sequestered  life 
Of  a  peculiar  people,  a  holy  nation  of  the  latter 
day." 

Bird 

JERUSALEM  of  old,  the  city  of  song,  sacri- 
fices and  tears,  the  city  to  which  the  Hebrew 
captives  looked  from  their  land  of  exile  on  the 
banks  of  the  Euphrates,  had  its  modern  repeti- 
tion in  this  Zion  of  the  Latter  Day  Saints  settled 
and  nestled  in  the  tops  of  these  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  topography  of  the  country  is  singularly  like 
that  of  the  Holy  Land  of  history,  with  the  differ- 
ence that  north  is  changed  to  south  in  its  water 
system. 

It  has  its  Dead  Sea — the  Great  Salt  Lake — 
at  the  north  end  of  this  valley  and  its  divide,  con- 
necting by  a  river — the  Jordan — flowing  out  of  it 

29 


30  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  receiving  canyon  streams  on  its  way  south, 
with  the  Sea  of  Galilee — Utah  Lake — a  fresh 
water  sheet  supplied  from  the  springs  in  the  Wa- 
satch  Mountains.  Of  course  there  is  no  Tyre  and 
Zidon,  no  Joppa  and  Mount  Carmel  overlooking 
the  Sea,  since  this  is  an  inland  country  far  from 
the  ocean.  But  here  are  fertile  plains  and  warm 
valleys,  watered  by  bubbling  brooks;  here  is  a 
land,  under  the  touch  of  man's  hand,  that  flows 
with  milk  and  honey. 

No  wonder  then,  that  these  religious  enthu- 
siasts marshalled  into  a  religious  host  by  Joseph 
Smith,  with  captains  like  Brigham  Young  and 
Herber  C.  Kimball;  such  exhorters  and  teachers 
as  Orson  Pratt  and  Lorenzo  Snow,  full  to  the  ex- 
tent of  human  capacity  with  "zeal  not  according 
to  knowledge,"  should  see  in  this  region,  secure 
by  distance  and  the  hills  from  persecutors,  the 
Promised  Land. 

It  did  not  take  very  much  imagination,  so  often 
found  joined  to  enthusiasm,  on  the  part  of  these 
saints  of  the  Latter  Day  to  see  in  themselves  a 
modern  Israel  coming  forth  out  of  a  modern 
Egypt — such  as  the  slave-making  states  of  Ten- 
nessee, Kentucky  and  Missouri — and,  under  a  new 
Urim  and  Thummim  vested  in  their  priests  and 
leaders,  to  make  the  desert  pilgrimage  into  the 
land  of  promise  and  peace. 


Pilgrims   to   a  Modern  Zion  31 

Only  a  little  warm  exhortation,  and  it  was 
never  wanting,  was  needed  to  strengthen  this 
fancy  into  fact. 

Originating  in  New  York  State,  in  Wayne 
County,  the  site  of  the  memorable  hill  Cumorah, 
where  Joseph  Smith  received  his  revelation  by 
vision  and  found  the  historic  plates  of  a  past 
prophet — Mormon — and  a  defunct  people — the 
Lamanites — this  new  faith  and  its  following 
passed  with  the  migratory  spirit  of  the  '40*8  to 
Nauvoo,  Illinois,  in  the  black  prairie  belt.  Soon 
their  peculiar  faith  made  them  obnoxious  to  their 
neighbors  of  narrow  vision  and  bigoted  belief,  so 
out  of  their  scarcely  warmed  nest  they  had  to  go 
yet  farther  west  beyond  the  great  river,  the  Mis- 
sissippi. They  put  down  their  stakes  a  third  time 
in  Missouri,  a  state  just  then  settling  with  a  mixed 
population  from  both  the  South  and  the  North. 

Since  these  Mormons — for  such  they  were  now 
called  by  the  general  community — were  "Come- 
Outers"  and  were  separate  from  their  neighbors, 
they  became  first  unpopular,  then  obnoxious  to 
those  who  differed  from  them.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  the  '4o's  were  the  years  of  reli- 
gious divisions  and  debates.  People  loved  to  argue 
about  shibboleths  of  religion,  even  to  fighting  out 
their  differences. 

This  fighting  was  of  course  generally  verbal 


32         L  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  ended  in  another  new  bisection  of  religion — 
some  sect  of  a  sect  cut  off  from  the  parent  body. 
The  itinerant  preachers  who  did  much  good  in 
their  rough  way  with  a  rough  people  amid  rude 
surroundings,  loved  to  verbally  fight  exponents  of 
other  shades  of  opinion. 

They  found  fine  stuff  for  a  fight  in  these  "pesti- 
lent Mormons."  More  especially  as  this  peculiar 
practice  of  polygamy  set  these  new  religionists  on 
the  hill  of  observation  and  criticism.  Here  was 
a  fine  chance  to  show  up  the  enemy  of  orthodoxy, 
and  all  the  sons  of  Boanerges — sons  of  thunder  in 
the  pulpit — fulminated  at  the  Latter  Day  Saints. 

Soon  this  sort  of  preaching  bore  its  expected 
fruit.  Animosity  and  hatred  were  developed  and 
this  give  and  take  often  ended  in  blows  at  these 
debates  and  denunciations. 

We  are  not  excusing  the  Mormon  leaders  or 
people.  They  were  set  in  their  ways  and  posed  as 
martyrs  of  faith.  Their  undeniable  zeal  and  sin- 
cerity won  many  a  female  convert  from  the  homes 
of  other  faiths,  and  when  such  women  became 
embosomed  in  the  Mormon  church  and  the  polyg- 
amous consorts  of  some  preacher,  elder  or 
bishop  of  this  new  faith,  then  the  rancor  reached 
its  climax  in  riot. 

I  do  not  go  into  the  details  of  history  on  this 
Subject.  Books  ad  nauseam  have  been  written 


Pilgrims   to   a  Modern  Zion    '         33 

on  the  subject  pro  and  con.  The  Mormon  side 
has  been  voluminously  voiced  by  good  recorders 
and  recounters,  while  the  other  side  has  met  it 
with  equal  heat  and  greater  volume. 

Truth  is  not  entirely  on  either  side  and  both 
sides  made  a  sorry  exhibition  of  the  so-called  re- 
ligion of  peace  and  purity.  We  know  the  arrest 
of  the  two  Smiths — Joseph  and  Hyrum — ended 
in  the  jail  being  besieged  by  an  angry  host  of 
Missourians,  who  shot  down  the  two  brothers  on 
the  jail  steps  and  thus  ended  their  leadership  of 
this  new-born  faith. 

Justice  could  not  be  had  in  such  a  day  and  place. 
Men  and  women  were  too  intense  and  narrow  of 
temper  to  give  place  to  anything  but  prejudice. 
Out  again  the  Mormons  had  to  come  from  their 
settlements  and  homes,  and  then  followed  what 
the  Dutch  would  call  the  "Great  Trek." 

Brigham  Young,  a  man  of  powerful  frame  and 
forceful  mind,  stepped  into  the  shoes  vacated  by 
the  dead  Seer.  With  lieutenants  of  this  same 
shrewd  Yankee  stock,  for  he  was  a  Vermonter  and 
they  were  mostly  from  down  East  states,  he  or- 
ganized these  people  into  a  marching  brigade  to 
cross  the  great  American  Desert  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  there  to  find  a  home  for  them  all  in 
a  new  promised  land. 

In  1848,  the  first  band  set  out,  with  ox  wagons 


34  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  a  few  horses,  to  make  the  long  journey  that 
we  now  swiftly  cover  in  forty-eight  hours  in  a 
pullman.  Innumerable  creeks  and  sloughs  to 
cross,  after  passing  the  great  Missouri,  never  end- 
ing plains,  like  those  of  Kansas,  Nebraska  and 
Wyoming,  constituted  the  highway  of  this  host. 
The  Indian,  wild  and  in  war  paint,  was  abroad, 
for  he  had  been  greatly  nettled  and  annoyed  by 
the  frontier  hunter  and  trapper  of  those  rough 
days,  trespassing  on  his  happy  hunting  grounds. 
The  bison  roamed  in  vast  herds,  and  the  prairie 
fires  swept  to  the  horizon  through  the  long  grass 
of  these  wild  fields  of  pasture. 

But  these  men  and  women,  of  faith,  girded  up 
their  loins  and  strapped  on  their  guns,  their  all 
housed  in  the  prairie  schooner  wagons  under  the 
hoops  and  canvas  covers;  with  a  "haw"  and 
"gee,"  they  started  out  with  the  spirit  of  adven- 
ture in  their  eyes  and  the  zeal  of  their  religion  in 
their  hearts.  Oh!  the  wild  ride  that  they  made 
through  these  unknown  wastes  of  land.  They 
fought  the  Indians  at  the  fords,  the  savage  beasts 
at  night,  the  fires  in  the  fall  when  the  herbage  was 
dry  as  tinder;  they  suffered  the  sickness  that  ac- 
companied insufficient  food  and  poor  sanitation 
in  camps,  when  they  had  to  make  long  rests  for 
their  cattle  to  recoup. 

They  had  started  too  late  in  July  for  so  long 


Pilgrims   to   a  Modern  Zion  35 

a  journey,  and  recked  not  of  the  early  winter  of 
the  mountains  to  which  they  journeyed. 

This  has  been  the  fault  of  most  migrations, — 
a  late  start, — and  insufficient  knowledge  of  the 
length  of  the  way.  Oh!  they  were  weary,  more 
weary  than  the  people  of  Israel  in  the  desert  of 
Sinai,  who  wearied  of  the  length  of  the  way  as 
recounted  in  the  Scripture.  Israel  had  a  Pres- 
ence in  the  cloud  by  day  and  in  the  fire  by  night, 
and  thus  they  said  to  themselves,  in  that  day,  "If 
the  Lord  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us?"  An 
infallible  guide  did  not  call  these  Mormons  to 
halt  and  make  camp. 

Their  leaders  were  known  as  prophets,  priests 
and  elders ;  but  they  were  fallible  men,  not  guides 
familiar  with  the  plains  and  the  seasons.  So  win- 
ter caught  them,  weak  from  the  long  trek  and 
want  of  food,  cattle  gaunt,  or  gone  to  dust  on 
the  road  far  back. 

Many  lay  down  to  die  by  the  way,  and  many  a 
little  mound  spoke  of  the  children's  resting  place 
after  the  mother's  arm  had  to  give  them  up.  Still 
their  faith  flowed  on  although  their  blood  grew 
thin  and  their  knees  were  feeble  as  they  pushed 
forward.  Through  the  canyons  they  passed  into 
the  valleys  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Brigham  Young  with  a  few  others  pressed 
ahead  looking  for  the  place  that  he  claimed  he 


36  Tenderfoot  Days 

had  seen  in  vision  and  which  was  to  be  their 
destined  home  and  the  promised  land  of  peace 
and  plenty. 

This  little  scouting  party  came  out  of  the  moun- 
tains just  above  where  the  City  of  Salt  Lake  now 
stands.  They  stood  upon  the  hill, — afterwards 
the  site  of  Camp  Douglas  and  the  post  of  author- 
ity of  Uncle  Sam  during  territorial  days, — and 
saw  before  them  the  Salt  Sea,  the  valley  widely 
stretching  south,  the  river  flowing  to  the  limit  of 
their  vision  through  the  divide  which  hid  yet  an- 
other and  greater  valley. 

"Here  is  the  place  that  the  Lord  has  chosen 
for  this  people !" 

It  was  Brigham  Young's  voice  and  the  others 
bowed  in  assent  as  to  the  voice  of  a  prophet. 

Thus  they  came  to  their  seat  in  the  tops  of  the 
mountains,  and  from  this  center  they  spread  out 
to  occupy  any  ground  that  had  water  tributary  to 
it, — for  this  was  a  land  where  irrigation  was 
necessary. 

Other  divisions  of  the  Mormon  host  followed 
the  next  season;  and  soon  this  waste  was  peopled 
with  a  race  fitted  to  endure  hardships  such  as 
face  all  pioneers. 

The  over-zeal  of  the  leaders,  however,  a  little 
later  on  led  to  a  fatal  mistake.  The  order  went 
out  to  the  rest  of  the  waiting  people  on  the  banks 


Pilgrims   to  a  Modern  Zion  37 

of  the  Missouri,  not  to  provide  themselves  with 
wagons  and  oxen,  but  to  content  themselves  with 
two-wheeled  push-carts  in  which  they  were  to 
stow  their  goods;  to  come  on  thus  in  faith,  and 
the  Lord  would  provide.  Fine  sounding  words 
to  the  faithful,  but  foolish  council  to  the  remnant 
of  these  people,  eager  for  their  earthly  Zion.  Of 
course  they  started  and  at  first  did  well;  but  the 
length  of  the  way  was  too  much  for  the  strength 
of  the  carts  and  those  who  pushed  and  pulled 
them. 

It  is  wonderful  how  this  multitude  of  men, 
women  and  children  got  so  far.  They  had  walked 
to  the  canyons  of  the  Rockies  late  in  the  fall 
season, — for  it  was  slow  work  going  this  way  by 
foot.  Then  the  sudden  cold  caught  them  and  the 
snows  covered  them.  They  fell  down  as  they 
halted  for  the  night  and  many  were  still  down  to 
stay,  when  the  dim  morning  light  pierced  the  fall- 
ing snow  flakes. 

The  others  struggled  on  to  drop  as  their  fel- 
lows before  them,  the  snow  their  winding  sheet. 
A  few  hardy  ones  struggled  through  the  drifted 
passes  and  like  ghosts  appeared  in  the  city  of  the 
Saints  with  cries: — 

"They  are  dying!    Come  with  food  and  help !" 

The  relief  went  out  with  hope,  but  it  was  a  hope 
not  realized ;  only  an  expectation  without  fruitage. 


38  Tenderfoot  Days 

They  found  the  train  of  way-worn  pilgrims  but 
they  had  all  passed  on  to  another  life. 

Faith  has  its  triumphs,  but  also  its  tragedies. 
Faith  can  overcome  mountains,  but  faith  can  fall 
in  the  climbing;  like  all  other  human  things,  faith 
has  its  failures.  No  matter  what  the  directors  of 
this  push  cart  expedition  believed  possible  in  the 
interests  of  faith,  no  matter  what  the  obedient 
host  did  in  trying  to  obtain  success  through  faith, 
the  impossible  blocked  the  way  and  this  mighty 
pilgrimage  of  faith  ended  in  a  fiasco. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CHURCH,  STATE  AND  CAMP 

"He  sees  that  this  great  roundabout, 
The  world,  with  all  its  motley  rout, 
Church,  army,  physic,  law, 
Its  customs  and  its  businesses — " 

Cowper 

THE  ecclesiastical  is  first  in  evidence  in  this 
modern  city  of  the  saints.  This  you  would 
expect  in  view  of  its  earlier  history  and  because 
of  its  existence  as  a  religious  center. 

"Where  is  the  Beehive?"  I  ask  in  the  innocence 
of  my  tenderfoot  knowledge.  You  see  I  had 
been  told  by  some  joker  that  the  principal  church 
building  was  so  called  because  it  was  always 
crowded  like  a  hive,  when  the  bees  are  busy  honey 
making. 

Certainly  at  the  times  of  meeting,  the  Taber- 
nacle, for  so  the  Mormons  called  the  central  place 
of  worship  in  their  accustomed  Old  Testament 
phraseology,  was  like  a  hive  of  bees,  for  it  fairly 

39 


4O  Tenderfoot  Days 

swarmed  with  people.  In  those  days,  and  in  that 
place  their  was  no  dearth  of  attendants  and  few 
empty  seats.  There  was  nothing  original  or  spec- 
tacular to  draw  the  crowd  beyond  the  names  of 
the  celebrated  Mormon  leaders.  Their  services 
were,  in  themselves,  rather  plain  and  common- 
place. 

I  found  my  way,  guided  by  the  stream  of  com- 
mon looking  people,  to  the  entrance  of  the  Taber- 
nacle. It  was  no  tent  or  temporary  structure  like 
those  reared  by  special  collections  to  house  evan- 
gelists on  revival  occasions.  This  was  a  solidly 
built  structure  and,  because  of  its  peculiar  shape, 
was  called  by  the  outsider  uthe  Soup  Tureen." 

It  did  look  like  one  on  a  very  large  scale,  in- 
verted so  the  bottom  was  the  top  with  the  cover 
removed.  On  stubby  pillars,  with  low  walls,  a 
huge  oblong  dome  covered  a  generous  space,  mak- 
ing an  immense  interior  under  one  roof.  It  was 
perfect  in  its  acoustics.  You  could  almost  hear 
a  pin  drop  if  silence  prevailed. 

An  immense  organ,  erected  at  the  end  and  lifted 
high  up  to  near  the  roof,  made  the  giant  space 
resonant  with  musical  sounds.  A  genius  played 
it  the  day  I  was  there.  It  throbbed  and  sobbed  as 
though  voicing  the  woes  and  throes  through  which 
these  people  had  found  their  way  to  this  moun- 
tain land  of  theirs. 


Church,  State  and  Camp  41 

A  choir  as  large  as  an  ordinary  church  audience 
sang  well  during  the  occasions  for  song.  The 
audience  itself  was  worthy  of  the  place  and  filled 
all  its  twelve  thousand  seats  with  a  mixed  multi- 
tude of  men,  women,  and  children.  The  last  were 
decidedly  visible  and  sometimes  audible.  There 
was  no  church  finery  in  dress  but,  in  place  of  the 
usual  "go-to-meeting"  garments,  was  the  evident 
interest  on  the  faces  of  almost  every  one  present. 

There  was  just  one  phrase  of  scripture  that 
came  into  my  mind  unsolicited  as  I  looked  at  the 
long  lines  of  faces  directed  one  way. 

UA11  these  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation." 
Whatever  their  faith  and  its  faults  they  had  suf- 
fered for  it,  and  having  paid  in  tears  a  goodly 
price  for  what  they  had  obtained,  they  seemed  by 
their  earnest  gaze  at  the  leaders  who  spoke  to 
them  to  prize  it  seriously. 

The  speaking  was  by  many  and  from  unique 
pulpits.  Below  the  organ  and  choir,  a  large  space 
was  given  over  to  tiers  of  seats  in  a  wide  semi- 
circular form.  These  were  occupied  by  the  Seventy 
and  the  Apostles  of  the  church. 

This  was  no  one-man  pulpit.  Furthermore  each 
of  these  tiers  of  seats  had  its  pulpit  in  the  exact 
center  of  the  tier;  so  from  above  down  there 
were  these  pulpit-tribunes  in  line  with  each  other 
and  facing  the  center  aisle  of  the  Tabernacle. 


42  Tenderfoot  Days 

The  lower  tier  and  pulpit  was  for  the  Apostles 
and  the  President  or  Revelator  of  the  church.  In 
this  case  it  was  Brigham  Young.  I  heard  several 
speak  from  these  tribunes  of  different  tiers.  This 
speaking  was  interspersed  with  choir  and  congre- 
gational singing.  That  of  the  choir  was  excel- 
lent in  voice  and  execution.  That  of  the  people 
was  vociferous  but  commonplace.  The  speaking 
was  of  the  same  order  as  the  singing,  and  was 
full  of  platitudes  and  rehearsals  of  the  sufferings 
of  these  people  at  the  hands  of  the  outsider. 
There  was,  of  course,  some  ground  for  what  they 
said  and  the  speakers  made  the  most  of  it  to  a 
very  sympathetic  audience. 

But  I  came  to  see  and  hear  Brigham  Young, 
whose  name  to  me  was  synonymous  with  Mor- 
monism.  My  wish  was  gratified,  for  this  leader 
was  present.  He  was  a  big  man  in  head,  face  and 
frame.  Full-bearded  like  most  Mormon  elders, 
he  poised  well  as  a  leader,  and  looked  at  ease 
as  he  sat  in  the  lower  tier  with  the  Apostles.  He 
rose  to  speak  at  last  and  stepped  into  the  pulpit- 
tribune  of  the  apostolic  tier,  and  his  voice  and 
diction  were  that  of  a  master  of  assemblies. 

A  fine  presence  and  forceful  speech  riveted  the 
attention  of  all,  but  the  subject  matter  was  a  dis- 
appointment. Nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  was 
uttered.  He  upbraided  "his  saints"  like  a  Jere- 


Church,  State  and  Camp  43 

miah  or  an  Isaiah  of  the  Jews,  and  yet  he  did  not 
fail  occasionally  to  insert  a  modicum  of  praise. 

"You  are  not  too  good!  Not  as  good  as  you 
ought  to  be !  But  you  are  better  than  the  best  that 
these  Gentiles  can  produce!"  Again  and  again 
he  would  say,  "Copy  not  their  ways,  neither  speak 
their  words;  their  oaths  and  foulness.  Follow  my 
advice  and  live  your  religion." 

It  struck  me  on  hearing  all  this  parade  of 
speech,  in  these  long  services,  that  the  whole  of 
Mormon  church  worship  was  a  matter  of  "too 
much  speaking."  It  was  speech  gone  to  seed. 
The  flower,  perfume  and  color,  was  fled  as  a  sum- 
mertime past,  and  the  husks  of  the  harvest  were 
only  left.  I  had  seen  the  very  opposite  of  this 
in  religious  conventions,  where  speech  was  for- 
gotten in  intonations,  invocations  and  reverbera- 
tions of  ceremonial  pomp.  So  goes  the  pendulum 
or  religious  custom,  from  one  extreme  to  another. 

They  observed  a  very  democratic  communion 
service.  Bread  and  water;  for  here  the  wine  was 
turned  to  water.  All  were  given  these  emblems 
of  communion.  Even  the  little  children  and 
babes  drank  out  of  the  glasses,  which  were  filled 
constantly  from  white  stone  pitchers,  passed  along 
by  a  band  of  ushers.  We,  too,  who  were  "out- 
siders" and  Gentiles  were  generously  included  in 
this  religious  repast.  Of  course  the  bread  was 


44  Tenderfoot  Days 

but  a  morsel  and  the  water  but  a  swallow,  but 
there  was  no  "fencing  of  tables,"  after  the  manner 
of  those  old  Covenanters,  who  fought  for  their 
faith  in  troubled  Scotland. 

With  the  final  anthem  and  last  words,  the  great 
audience  swarmed  out  of  this  hive  of  humanity, 
like  the  bees  after  flowers.  We  went  out  after 
fresh  air  and  relief.  For  I  heard  many  a  sound, 
like  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  when  the  service  was 
over  and  outdoors  was  a  possibility.  The  streets 
adjacent  were  like  city  sidewalks  during  show- 
time, as  this  great  crowd  went  homeward. 

I  saw  another  side  of  this  city's  life  the  next 
day.  I  was  introduced  by  Dr.  Welch  to  Governor 
Emery,  who  represented  the  Powers  that  Be  at 
Washington,  D.  C.,  and  not  the  powers  that  were 
in  Mormondom.  He  and  Judge  Beatty  were  to- 
gether and  I  heard  some  words,  in  course  of  a 
brief  interview,  which  showed  that  the  Federal 
authorities  were  non-sympathetic,  if  not  antagonis- 
tic, to  the  majority  of  the  people  of  this  country. 
Of  course  they  were  appointees  of  the  president 
and  depended  not  on  this  locality  for  their  posi- 
tions. They  evidently  were  like  the  Missourians 
of  a  previous  generation,  as  they  were  in  need  of 
"being  shown"  whether  any  good  thing  could 
come  out  of  such  a  thing  as  a  modern  Zion.  They 
discounted  the  over-zeal  of  the  Latter  Day  Saints, 


Church,  State  and  Camp  45 

and  doubted  their  loyalty  to  the  Union;  more 
especially  as  most  Mormons  voted  the  demo- 
cratic ticket,  a  ticket  which  to  all  good  repub- 
licans of  those  reconstruction  days,  was  almost  the 
same  as  sympathy  with  secession. 

The  bitterness  of  the  Civil  War  was  yet  voiced 
in  the  talk  of  most  of  these  civil  servants,  who 
could  not  forget  the  late  strife. 

Utah  had  its  Mormon  legion  which  made  Brig- 
ham  Young  and  the  Hierarchy  of  the  church  in- 
dependent of,  if  not  opposed  to,  the  Union.  I 
found,  and  did  not  wonder  much  at  it,  that  the 
representatives  of  the  Federal  Government  all 
felt  as  though  they  were  living  in  hostile  ter- 
ritory. 

I  heard  Governor  Emery  speak  at  a  meeting 
to  promote  higher  education  in  the  Territory. 
This  was  at  the  opening  of  a  collegiate  institution 
in  Salt  Lake  City.  What  he  said  was  well  said, 
and  so  it  ought  to  have  been  since  he  was  a  very 
long  time  in  saying  a  very  little.  He  spoke  with 
a  deliberation  that  was  almost  painful  to  one's 
patience,  and  with  a  caution  that  outdid  any  Scot 
I  ever  heard  speak  on  a  crisis :  but  he  spoke  with 
decision  and  most  earnestly  to  the  effect  that  a 
new  order  of  intellectual  teaching  must  be  pushed 
in  the  Territory  if  it  was  to  advance  and  be 
worthy  of  the  future  times.  He  said  the  war  of 


46  Tenderfoot  Days 

swords  was  over  but  the  war  of  words  had  yet 
to  be  fought  and  settled,  before  true  republican 
freedom  could  dominate  the  offices  of  the  Terri- 
tory. He  did  not  wave  a  blaody-shirt,  as  some  of 
the  political  men  of  that  day  were  wont  to  do,  but 
he  did  point  several  times  to  the  evidence  of 
Uncle  Sam's  presence  in  the  camp  at  Fort  Douglas. 

That  speech  led  me  to  make  a  visit  to  the  Fort 
on  the  next  day,  where  the  regiment  of  blue 
soldiers  were  stationed. 

Down  in  the  city  I  found  a  guardhouse  and  a 
sentry  stationed  there,  who  paced  back  and  forth 
with  rifle  and  fixed  bayonet.  He  was  a  mere  boy 
in  the  sky-blue  uniform  and  forage  cap  of  the  days 
of  the  sixties.  This  guardhouse  held  a  half  dozen 
men  in  telegraphic  communication  with  the  Fort 
on  the  bench  land,  overlooking  the  city  to  the 
north.  This  guardhouse  was  well  down  in  the  city 
on  First  South  Street,  and  in  full  view  of  the 
Amelia  palace — Brigham  Young's  principal  home 
— the  Tithing  House  of  Zion  Co-operative  Mer- 
cantile Institution,  and  the  Tabernacle. 

There  is  no  need  to  describe  Camp  Douglas; 
it  was  just  like  any  ordinary  military  headquarters 
to  be  found  in  the  West  during  this  period. 
Parked  artillery  with  frowning  guns  were  pointed 
Zionward.  There  were  such  guns  as  they  then 
had,  but  mere  pop-guns  in  comparison  with  the 


Church,  State  and  Camp  47 

modern  scientific  weapons  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury. Yet  these  guns  over-awed  Zion  and  were 
meant  to  do  so. 

Seditious  speech  had  been  common  on  the 
streets  of  this  mountain  city  a  few  years  previous, 
when  the  people  were  restless  under  the  newfelt 
pressure  of  the  Federal  and  victorious  Republic. 
Utah  had  come  in  line  with  Texas,  California, 
Arizona  and  such  outlying  regions,  which  were  so 
hard  to  reach  because  remote  from  the  seat  of 
government.  Moreover  many  hostile  Indians 
roamed  between  the  middle  settled  West  and  the 
plains  and  mountains  neighboring  to  Salt  Lake 
City.  In  the  days  when  the  Mormons  had  their 
own  militia  it  was  not  an  uncommon  remark,  in 
everyday  talk,  to  hear  such  words  as  these : 

"We  can  whip  these  U-nited  States  if  they  git 
too  interferinV 

So  I  was  not  surprised,  when  I  chatted  with 
the  boys  in  blue,  to  hear  one  of  them  say,  as  he 
patted  the  black  muzzle  of  a  big  gun: 

"Say,  Doc,  these  little  fellers  are  trained  onto 
that  old  soup-tureen,  you  visited  the  other  day." 
Said  another: 

"Gosh!  wot  a  hole  for  the  daylight  we  could 
let  into  its  roof." 

It  never  so  happened  that  such  extremities  were 
necessary,  but  there  were  times  when  feeling  and 


48  Tenderfoot  Days 

faction  ran  very  high.  When  a  spark  might  have 
led  to  a  blaze,  which  would  have  started  a  small 
internal  war,  much  worse  and  more  bloody  than 
any  Indian  raid. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  CO-OPERATIVE  INDUSTRY  OF  UTAH 

"How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 
Improve  each  shining  hour, 
And  gather  honey  all  the  day 
From  every  opening  flower" 

Watts 

VERY  suggestive  of  the  Mormon  view  of  in- 
dustry and  business  are  the  two  symbols 
chosen  to  represent  the  co-operation  of  the  peo- 
ple in  making  the  desert  into  a  garden,  and  that 
garden  to  bloom  like  a  rose.  I  use  that  term  as  it 
was  a  favorite  expression  in  those  formative  days 
by  all  the  Mormon  settlers  with  whom  I  talked 
about  their  business  lives. 

For  these  people  were  a  very  practical  people. 
They  were  enthusiasts  in  their  religion,  but  never 
dreamers,  monks,  nuns,  and  transcendentalists  like 
so  many  of  the  earliest  enthusiasts  of  religious 
history. 

49 


50  Tenderfoot  Days 

These  symbols  were  two:  a  hive  and  an  eye. 
The  hive  was  a  bee-hive  of  platted  straw  with 
conical  top;  and  the  eye  was  a  single  eye  within 
a  circular  ring,  wide  open  and  viewing  you  as 
you  regarded  it.  What  did  these  symbols  mean? 
The  first  meant  the  industry  of  the  busy  bee- 
making  sweets  out  of  the  wild  flowers  and  desert 
plants  so  that  they  became  of  commercial  value. 

So  the  Saints  were  makers  of  values,  through 
their  industry,  as  they  toiled  on  the  land  allotted 
to  them,  and  watering  it  by  furrows  so  that  the 
desert  should  bring  forth  and  bear  a  hundred 
fold. 

The  second  symbol  meant  that  the  eye  of  the 
Lord,  which  seeth  single  and  true,  was  on  them 
always  as  they  worked ;  and  they  must  deal  fairly 
one  with  the  other,  neither  cheating  nor  defraud- 
ing their  fellow  man.  This  was  where  their  re- 
ligion stepped  in  to  keep  straight  their  industry. 
For  want  of  it  now-a-days,  business  is  much  like 
the  shark's  life,  existing  to  bite  one  another. 

You  can  imagine  the  effect  of  these  ideas,  voiced 
by  the  symbols  on  the  front  of  every  store  in 
Mormondom.  These  suggestions  of  industry  and 
probity  are  excellent  and  sufficient.  Absorbed  as 
they  were  in  time  by  the  subconscious  mind  of  a 
generation  of  a  people,  the  effect  was  a  toiling 
busy  crowd  at  work  on  the  land,  the  foundation 


The  Co-operative  Industry  of  Utah         51 

of  any  and  every  commerce.  Every  man,  woman 
and  child  was  a  worker,  with  no  drones  or  bums 
allowed. 

Of  course  ~they  raised  produce,  of  course  they 
needed  warehouses,  stores,  and  selling  markets; 
and  so  arose  the  Institution  which  made  business 
a  unit,  and  was  the  first  Trust  formed  in  the 
Territories — Zion's  Co-operative  Mercantile  In- 
stitution. 

The  institution  was  Zion's  and  thus  the  probity 
suggested  by  the  watchful  eye  of  God  was  over 
all  its  transactions.  In  fact,  we  find  these  Latter 
Day  Saints  actually  fulfilling,  to  their  ability,  the 
old-time  cry  of  the  Jewish  prophet  Micah — uDo 
justly,  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  with  thy 
God." 

They  made  some  bad  breaks  in  this  good  order 
of  life  at  times,  as  all  do  who  are  even  of  the  best 
people,  and  we  would  be  sour  curmudgeons,  in- 
deed, if  we  allowed  a  dislike  for  some  of  their 
teachings  and  some  of  their  practices  to  blind  us 
to  the  hearty  effort,  on  their  part,  to  be  just  in 
their  business  relations  as  well  as  good  in  their 
religious  life. 

It  certainly  was  a  stroke  of  genius,  when  the 
idea  of  God  being  a  witness  to  every  business  deal- 
ing was  suggested  by  the  "Onlooking  Eye" ;  asso- 
ciated with  the  "Honeykeeping  Hive,"  on  the 


52  Tenderfoot  Days 

front  of  their  places  of  business  in  city,  town  and 
hamlet,  and  even  in  the  outlying  country  store. 

Of  course  being  simply  humans,  they  slipped  a 
cog  in  this  wheel  of  commerce.  This  great  co- 
operative store,  handling  the  business  of  all 
workers,  tended  to  become  a  trust;  to  object  to 
competition;  to  make  arbitrary  rules  and  penalties 
for  those  obnoxious  to  the  managers  and  leaders. 

Where  will  you  find  men,  who  are  fit  for  leaders, 
who  do  not  soon  boss,  instead  of  simply  directing, 
their  employees  and  their  customers? 

I  knew  many  cases  where  men  who  were  lax  in 
their  religion  were  punished  by  these  business 
stores,  in  being  "boycotted,"  so  they  could  not  sell 
their  goods  or  buy  the  commodities  they  required. 

With  all  its  faults  this  co-operation  was  a  liv- 
ing business  spine  to  carry  business  nerve  and 
force  to  every  section  of  the  territory,  and  build 
up  both  its  products  and  its  trade. 

The  main  plant  of  this  great  business  house  was 
in  Salt  Lake  City,  but  each  town  had  its  store, 
and  at  the  stores  everything  could  be  sold  that 
was  produced  in  the  country  and  was  in  a  saleable 
condition,  and  everything  from  a  needle  to  a  steam 
engine  could  be  bought  if  wanted.  It  could  be 
paid  for  in  money  or  in  kind. 

At  first  it  was  all  trade,  like  that  of  the  early 
settler  in  the  East  and  west  of  the  Mississippi. 


The  Co-operative  Industry  of  Utah         53 

But  industry  breeds  wealth  and  so  it  was  not  long 
before  the  sod  houses  gave  way  to  clapboarded 
structures  in  the  city,  and  to  adobe  houses— sun- 
baked brick — in  the  towns  and  countryside. 

It  was  a  day  of  one  price,  and  since  there  was 
but  one  business  house,  there  was  no  opposition. 
That  house  representing  the  interests  of  the  peo- 
ple and  only  charging  a  fair  profit  on  the  time 
and  capital  invested,  was  popular  to  the  last  de- 
gree. There  was  no  effort  nor  desire  to  build  up 
a  millionaire  institution  or  make  a  great  fortune 
for  any  individual. 

Of  course  since  there  were  some  very  shrewd 
Yankees  among  the  leaders  of  the  church,  it  fol- 
lows that  they  made  the  best  of  their  opportuni- 
ties when  trading  through  this  mercantile  house, 
and  put  things  so  that  they  personally  profited  by 
their  inside  knowledge  of  market  prices. 

Still  there  was  lacking  the  graft  of  modern  busi- 
ness and  the  insane  desire,  bred  by  such  men  as 
Gould  and  his  confreres  of  that  day  in  the  East, 
through  their  speculations,  to  smash  financially 
every  competitor  in  their  own  line  of  operations. 

It  was  before  the  days  of  millionaires  and  trusts 
but,  even  then,  the  shadows  of  these  business 
evils  were  overhanging  the  land. 

This  co-operative  business  house  gave  the  church 
a  chance  to  execute  a  little  side  business  of  its  own. 


54  Tenderfoot  Days 

Since  it  handled  nearly  all  the  products  raised  by 
the  people,  and  since  these  people  had  obligated 
themselves  to  pay  a  tithe  or  tenth  to  the  church, 
here  was  the  chance  to  collect  these  dues  in  regular 
Old  Testament  fashion. 

Now  the  church  of  the  Latter  Day  Saints  is 
nothing  if  it  is  not  obedient  to  the  Old  Testament. 
This  we  shall  presently  see  when  we  consider  its 
teachings  and  its  theology.  While  a  modern  ex- 
pression of  religion,  yet  that  religion  is  stamped 
with  the  old  patterns  of  Jewish  days,  and  so  the 
tithe  or  tenth  part  of  one's  income  became  the 
scale  of  giving,  and  so  through  these  produce 
stores  the  church  collected  its  tithes  and  filled  its 
ecclesiastical  coffers. 

Religion  is  nothing  if  it  does  not  take  up  a  col- 
lection. The  old  story  is  in  point,  that  tells  of  a 
shipwrecked  crew,  afloat  in  the  south  seas,  in  the 
ship's  long-boat.  A  pitiless  sun  and  but  few 
showers,  with  scant  rations  saved  from  the  wreck, 
soon  brought  the  hardened  crew  to  a  religious 
mellowness;  and  some  one  urged  a  religious  serv- 
ice to  propitiate  the  Power  of  Heaven  in  their 
distress.  As  none  could  pray,  and  there  was  no 
preacher  aboard  the  boat,  and  moreover  their 
singing  powers  were  limited  to  sailor  shanties,  for 
none  remembered  their  childhood  hymns;  this  re- 
ligious service  consisted  in  taking  up  a  collection 


The  Co-operative  Industry  of  Utah         55 

by  passing  the  hat.  No  sailor  failed  to  remember 
that  function  of  a  religious  service,  and  since  it 
was  all  they  could  do,  they  did  that  one  thing. 
They  felt  better  after  this  collection  since  they 
thought  the  Lord  would  look  after — "Poor  Jack," 
since  he  had  looked  after  the  interests  of  the 
Lord's  church. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  ideal  church 
finance  was  always  carried  out.  There  are  too 
many  kickers  in  every  kind  of  thing  of  human 
management.  But  a  lot  of  tithing  came  to  hand 
by  way  of  the  Co-op,  as  it  was  called  for  short, 
and  many  were  the  sneers  of  outsiders  as  they 
spoke  of  this  "cinch"  the  church  had  on  the  in- 
dustry of  the  land. 

"Who  wouldn't  be  a  leader,  and  even  a  Mor- 
mon, with  such  fat  pickings  coming  in  from  the 
fields?" 

Such  resources  were  stable,  and  unlike  the  volun- 
tary offerings,  which  support  the  usual  ecclesias- 
tical efforts  of  the  denominations.  So  Zion  could 
build  stores,  schools,  ward  houses  and  meeting 
places,  until  finally  a  temple  was  built  that  took 
forty  years  to  finish. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  VALLEY  SETTLEMENTS 

"The  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blossom  like  a  rose!' 

Bible 

A  STRING  of  valleys,  rich  of  soil,  but  scant 
of  water,  stretched  from  north  to  south  in 
this  territory  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  Saint  Tjeorge. 

It  was  the  policy  of  these  people  to  occupy  the 
land  in  settlements  similar  to  those  of  the  French 
Canadians.  No  doubt  the  idea  was  born  of  the 
observations,  made  in  earlier  days,  by  the  Mor- 
mon leaders  who  were  mostly  from  the  New  Eng- 
land States.  They  were  probably  visitors,  at 
times,  across  the  border  from  New  Hampshire  or 
Vermont,  and  so  knew  how  the  French  habitant 
was  housed  in  villages  with  their  farms  farther 
afield.  To  their  labor  they  went  forth  in  the 
morning,  to  return,  at  the  call  of  the  "Angelus," 
from  their  fields  to  their  settlement-firesides  at 
night. 

This  made  for  social  life,  and  suited  well  the 
56 


The  F  alley  Settlements  57 

gregarious  and  garrulous  genius  of  the  French 
race  stock  that  settled  that  eastern  portion  of  the 
great  Canadian  Dominion.  It  did  more.  It  gave 
the  religious  leader  and  teacher,  the  priest  of  the 
Roman  Church,  the  power  and  opportunity  to 
reach,  by  ready  speech,  the  people  whose  easy 
assembling  was  possible,  after  work  hours,  since 
they  were  village  residents. 

There  were  no  solitary  farmhouses,  often  out 
of  sight  of  a  neighbor,  and  so  out  of  mind,  touch 
and  sympathy;  such  as  we  see  on  the  wide  plains 
of  the  Dakotas  of  the  North-West;  or  could  have 
seen,  in  those  early  days,  on  the  prairies  of  Illinois 
or  the  woodlands  of  Indiana  or  Ohio. 

So  these  Utah  settlers  occupied  town  and  ham- 
lets, and  the  meeting  house,  the  center  of  its  life, 
was  always  well  filled  by  adjacent  residents.  By 
every  water  course,  small  or  large,  near  or  dis- 
tant, from  the  hills  which  supplied  these  rills, 
these  settlements  were  formed.  Each  was  fully 
organized  and  often  incorporated,  having  mayor, 
council,  wards;  like  any  city. 

The  lands  adjacent  were  divided  up  among  the 
people  so  that  each  family  head,  and  those  acting 
as  heads  of  or  for  families,  could  have  the  pro- 
verbial forty  acres  and  a  mule,  a  sufficient  start 
in  life  on  the  soil.  How  sensible,  stable,  and 
socialistic  this  was,  is  seen  in  the  contentment  and 


58  Tenderfoot  Days 

progress  of  these  settlers  from  the  first  days. 
Right  speedily  the  ground  tickled  with  the  hoe, 
laughed  with  a  harvest,  everywhere  that  the  lavish 
waters  of  the  towering  Wasatch  or  Orquirreh 
Ranges  could  be  diverted. 

The  silver  streams  of  embryo  wealth  to  a 
desert-land  came,  in  torrents,  down  the  rough 
granite  studded  canyons,  to  waste  their  life  giv- 
ing power  by  falling  into  the  Utah  Jordan,  and 
then  rolling  south  into  Utah  Lake,  the  modern 
Sea  of  Galilee  with  towns  around  its  watery 
shores. 

But  industry  harnessed  these  waters  as  the 
Eastern  settlers  did  their  mill-streams  by  dams,  to 
make  them  commercially  profitable  and  powerful. 
So  the  Mormon  people  by  canals  cut  to  suit  the 
contour  of  the  land  brought  water  to  every  little 
patch  of  arable  soil.  The  fair  clime  and  genial 
sun  of  Utah,  mountain-sheltered  from  the  Borean 
blasts  that  swept  the  prairie  wastes  to  the  west, 
made  farming  both  a  delight  and  a  success. 

I  have  never  seen  finer  wheat  than  the  sym- 
metrical, golden  kernels  of  grain  in  the  Utah 
Valley.  And  the  yield  was  most  generous  when 
properly  watered;  forty  and  fifty  bushels  being 
common.  What  toothsome  loaves  the  housewives 
made  from  this  wheat,  milled  by  Utah's  Co- 
operative Institution. 


The  F  alley  Settlements  59 

The  fruit  of  these  settlements  was  on  a  par  with 
the  grain.  Peaches,  especially,  were  finely-flavored 
and  were  generally  raised.  Almost  every  slop- 
ing shed-roof,  in  the  season,  was  covered  with  cut 
peaches  drying  in  the  sun,  for  the  market  at  home 
and  abroad.  In  fact,  these  people,  who  knew  the 
keen  bite  of  poverty  for  the  few  first  years,  soon 
had  all  that  the  mouth  and  stomach  asked  for,  in 
the  way  of  varied  foods. 

Cattle,  too,  well-fed,  throve  and  helped  the 
dairy  to  flourish,  and  the  meat  market  to  be  well 
supplied. 

I  think  that  you  can  see  the  character  and  ap- 
pearance of  these  settlements.  The  borders  of 
each  incorporated  town  touched  those  of  the  suc- 
ceeding one,  as  you  travelled  south,  so  in  one 
sense  you  were  never  out  of  town. 

This  applied  to  the  good  land  districts  above. 
Of  course  there  was  much  benchland,  sagebrush 
areas,  for  which  water  could  not  be  procured,  be- 
ing either  too  expensive  to  grade  to  the  land  in 
need,  or  there  was  not  sufficient  dependable  water 
to  be  had  to  warrant  the  laying  out  of  a  settle- 
ment. So  Utah  still  had  its  waste  places,  and  the 
silences  belonging  to  all  waste  places. 

These  valley  settlements  began  around  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  the  main  city  of  the  Saints  being 
the  principal  one.  They  then  spread  generally 


60  Tenderfoot  Days 

southward,  over  the  divides  separating  these  val- 
leys of  the  mountains  and  so  continued  to  the  limit 
of  the  territory  where  it  slipped  over  the  rim  of  a 
basin,  to  lower  altitudes,  in  northern  Arizona,  at 
St.  George. 

At  this  latter  and  remote  settlement,  there  was 
a  sanitarium  of  climate,  whose  soft  mildness  in 
winter  made  it  a  resort  for  those  who  could  afford 
the  expense  of  a  long  stage  trip  in  search  of  a 
change  of  season  and  the  restoration  of  broken 
health. 

I  rode  about  the  towns  that  fringed  the  shores 
of  Utah  Lake  and  as  I  looked  at  its  waters,  quiet 
now,  and  the  next  hour  swept  by  the  torrential 
winds  that  came  out  of  Spanish  Fork  Canyon  as 
though  shot  from  a  high-powered  gigantic  air- 
gun,  I  thought  of  the  blue  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  the 
tempestuous  night  passage  by  Christ  and  his  dis- 
ciples. 

Down  the  long  stretch  from  Payson,  the  town 
at  the  south  end  of  this  fresh  water  inland  sea, 
to  Nephi  beneath  the  lofty  crest  and  ancient  snows 
of  Mount  Nebo,  overlooking  its  quiet  streets,  one 
travels  through  little  settlements  of  the  types, 
which  I  have  already  described;  occupied  by  a 
class  of  small  farmers,  all  doing  well,  but  not  one 
of  them  rich. 

The  territory  of  my  day  was  a  land  of  little- 


The  F  alley  Settlements  61 

landers  and  small  fortunes;  the  capitalist  was 
nosing  in,  but  he  was  a  gentile,  or  a  foreign  in- 
vestor, who  was  after  mines  and  commodities,  and 
fought  shy  of  farming  and  soil  investments. 

Mount  Nebo,  whose  height  was  unclimbed  by 
any  Utah  prophet,  was  the  dividing  range  that 
intervened  between  the  settlements  of  San  Pete 
Valley,  filled  with  Scandinavian  settlers,  and  the 
main  valley  by  Parowan,  down  which  the  railroad 
of  this  modern  age  passes  on  its  way  from  Salt 
Lake  to  Los  Angeles. 

I  left  the  railroad  at  a  little  south  of  Payson, 
and  from  thence  all  my  travelling  was  by  stage  or 
canvas  covered  wagon,  or  on  the  broncho  of  that 
region. 

I  found  the  people  homely,  happy  in  their  way, 
self-satisfied  as  to  their  sainthood  and  church  life, 
but  quite  unintellectual.  I  do  not  mean  that  they 
were  more  ignorant  than  the  usual  rural  popula- 
tion of  the  West  of  that  day;  they  had  a  lot  of 
homely  wisdom  and  quaint  sayings,  with  the  usual 
horse-trading  cuteness  and  wit;  but  as  to  thinking 
for  themselves  they  were  not  remarkable,  for  like 
many  a  church  folk  in  many  a  clime,  they  left  all 
their  thinking  for  the  professional  thinkers  and 
creed  makers;  and  so  like  sheep,  satisfied  with 
their  shepherds,  they  listened  to  the  voice  of  their 
authorities  and  acquiesced  in  all  their  demands. 


62  Tenderfoot  Days 

I  have  sat  in  many  a  cosy  parlor,  with  the 
visitor's  chair  in  evidence,  and  enjoyed  the  hos- 
pitality and  good  will  of  industrious  house-wives. 
I  saw  very  little  evidence  of  married  unhappiness, 
or  of  a  pronounced  polygamy.  Of  course  it  was 
there,  and  some  of  the  homesteads  gave  ocular 
evidence  of  plural  wifehood  with  separate  doors 
and  windows  of  section-made  adobe  houses  visible 
from  the  roadside. 

The  children  were  barefooted,  browned,  and 
healthy.  They  were  wild-eyed  and  shy  when  ques- 
tioned by  a  stranger,  but  very  little  more  so  than 
those  of  any  rural  people  who  see  but  little  of  the 
outside  bustling  world  of  commerce. 

Surely  these  settlements,  utilizing  these  broad 
acres,  otherwise  idle,  were  a  better  product,  de- 
spite these  peculiarities,  than  a  waste  of  sage  and 
sand  given  over  to  hordes  of  coyotes,  the  prowl- 
ing bear  and  wildcat. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  LONG  RIDE  THROUGH  UTAH  VALLEY 

"It  were  a  journey  like  the  path  to  Heaven, 
To  help  you  find  them." 

Milton 

IT  was  the  midsummer  of  1876,  when  I  was 
invited  to  take  a  long  distance  drive  through 
these  Mormon  settlements,  with  a  missionary. 

He  was  not  a  Mormon  missionary,  however, 
but  a  representative  of  an  orthodox  Protestant 
denomination;  several  such  religious  bodies  were 
seeking  a  foothold  for  school  and  church  in  this 
territory. 

In  a  certain  sense  we  were  doing  scout  duty  for 
a  Mission  Board  in  New  York  City.  As  Moses 
of  old  sent  spies  into  the  land  on  the  other  side  of 
Jordan  of  Scripture,  so  this  Board  sent  its  repre- 
sentatives to  spy  out  this  Promised  Land,  not 
from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  but  from  Ogden  to 
Mount  Pleasant. 

We  were  almost  boys  in  spirit,  and  not  far 
63 


64  Tenderfoot  Days 

removed  in  years,  so  this  task  appealed  to  us  as 
a  sort  of  adventure  mixed  with  duty  imposed. 

We  did  not  go  afoot  but  drove  a  one-horse 
wagonette  having  for  its  load  two  dozen  school 
desks  and  seats  for  an  incipient  academy  of  ele- 
mentary grade.  The  hope  for  the  educational 
up-lift  of  a  miseducated  Utah. 

This  to  some,  in  these  now  liberal  days,  may 
seem  a  bigoted  endeavor  and  a  youthful  assump- 
tion of  a  capacity  to  instruct  others;  but  it,  never- 
theless, was  the  outcome  of  the  wise  and  weighty 
council  of  older  men  who  accepted  our  offer  as 
adventurers  in  this  Pioneer  Mission  in  San  Pete 
Valley. 

It  was  not  then  given  us  to  see  the  long,  hard 
grind  of  work  and  duty  to  establish  this  educa- 
tional plant,  so  we  went  cheerfully  south,  like 
sailors  shipping  for  a  distant  port. 

The  pull  for  one  lone  horse,  of  these  seats  for 
future  scholars,  to  say  nothing  of  a  box  of  heavy 
books,  was  unfair  when  we  came  to  see  the  sand- 
ridges  in  our  way  on  the  roads  over  the  valley 
divides.  It  was  get  out  and  push  behind  while 
the  horse  panted  in  front. 

If  we  had  been  better  horse-jockeys,  we  would 
have  insisted  on  a  team  when  we  left  the  city; 
but  our  commercial  and  theoretical  well-wishers 
and  providers,  in  their  scholarly  incapacity  as 


A  Long  Ride  Through  Utah  Valley         65 

mountain  travellers,  insisted  that  one  horse  was 
ample. 

Well,  we  crawled  along,  and  whiled  away  the 
time  with  some  healthy  and  also  some  unhealthy 
discussions  of  religious  questions  in  comparative 
theology.  We  were  like  most  of  the  young  men, 
quick  to  discuss  deep  problems,  and  rushed  in  with 
our  logic  on  subjects  where  "Angels  feared  to 
tread." 

Both  warmed  in  body  from  our  cart-pushings, 
and  in  mind  from  our  arguments,  we  passed  the 
heat  of  the  day  and  the  divide  of  land,  so  that  at 
the  sunset  we  saw  no  longer  the  Salt  Lake  to  the 
north,  but  the  sea  of  fresh  water  to  the  south; 
Lake  Utah  colored  by  the  last  rays  of  light. 

My  companion  was  a  Mac,  one  of  the  numer- 
ous Macs,  whose  forebears  came  from  Scotland, 
and  he  lived  up  to  his  clan  as  "Varra  creetical" 
in  discussions.  Now  it  is  very  hard  to  overcome 
a  Scot  in  argument  and  so  I  had  the  worst  of  it 
just  then.  My  companion  wore  a  thin  smile  of 
victory  and  conceit  at  his  superior  intellectual 
prowess,  more  especially  as  he  prided  himself  on 
the  possession,  not  only  of  a  B.A.  and  B.D.,  but 
an  M.A.  degree,  whereas  I  had  not  quite  finished 
college  life  when  I  had  to  mix  with  the  world. 

But  I  had  rubbed  edges  with  that  world;  had 
been  tutored  by  city  stock-brokers  and  had  been 


66  Tenderfoot  Days 

a  photographer,  when  a  man  had  to  be  not  only 
an  artist  but  a  chemist,  to  ply  his  trade;  all  this 
before  I  received  my  teaching  degree.  So  I  had 
my  companion  when  it  came  to  business  things, 
and  pushed  him  hard  to  the  wall  over  this  "scrub 
horse"  that  he  had  been  tricked  into  by  a  trader; 
and  the  awful  load  that  his  ignorance  of  teaming 
had  put  into  the  wagonette  for  so  long  a  drive. 

Crossing  a  creek  about  twelve  miles  on  our  way, 
the  strain  was  too  much  for  the  harness  and 
"crack"  went  one  of  the  tugs. 

Here  I  gave  my  chum  a  little  verbal  rub  on  the 
unwisdom  of  cheap  harnesses.  I  rubbed  it  farther 
in  during  the  hour  we  spent  in  mending  the  leather 
with  old  rope ;  as  I  informed  him  that  no  Western 
man  ever  travelled  far  without  a  coil  of  buckskin 
to  meet  such  disasters  as  had  overtaken  us.  He 
learned  a  great  deal  about  the  sorrows  of  a  ten- 
derfoot before  he  was  through  with  the  trip,  and 
his  harness,  often  repaired,  resembled  some  of 
those  rare  bargains  offered  to  the  green-hand  in 
junk  stores. 

The  point  of  the  mountain,  seen  all  day  from 
our  Salt  Lake  City  start,  ended  our  up-grade  pull, 
and  now  down-grade  we  went  to  our  first  stopping 
place.  We  were  high  enough  to  overlook  the 
Jordan  river,  flowing  well  within  its  banks;  for 
this  Utah  Jordan  never  overflows  them  to  swell 


A  Long  Ride  Through  Utah  Valley         67 

its  waters  like  its  Palestinian  brother-river.  We 
could  see  the  haze  over  the  Great  Lake  north, 
and  the  forming  film  of  vapor  over  the  smaller 
lake  south  of  us,  where  Lehi  and  American  Fork, 
two  Mormon  settlements,  showed  up  their  dry 
streets  and  the  green  fields  adjacent. 

"Well,  Mac!  do  we  camp  when  we  reach  the 
borders  of  that  lake?"  I  asked,  fully, supposing 
that  he  wanted  to  do  the  correct  thing  and  sleep 
under  the  sky. 

"We'll  not  need  to  camp.  We  will  make  Lehi 
soon,  and  there's  a  chance  for  a  room  for  us,  and 
a  corral  for  the  horse." 

"Any  hotels  in  these  towns?"  I  asked,  for  he 
had  been  this  way  before  by  road. 

"None:  but  I  know  a  Mormon  family.  The 
elder  will  take  in  travellers,  if  he  likes  their  looks, 
and  they  don't  catch  him  too  much  unawares." 

We  carried  a  camp  outfit,  but  did  not  wish  to 
trench  on  our  supplies,  if  possible,  so  early  in  the 
journey.  The  tired  horse,  that  had  done  wonders 
from  any  point  of  view,  but  was  dubbed  a  lazy 
brute  by  Mac,  pulled  us  slowly  into  the  distant 
town,  and  along  its  adobe-lined  streets. 

"That  is  a  long-drawn-out  one?"  I  said,  point- 
ing to  a  low-built  house  of  sun-dried  brick,  "five 
doors  and  five  windows  all  in  a  line." 

"Yes,"    said   Mac,   "that  is  an  indication  of 


68  Tenderfoot  Days 

plural  marriage.  Each  door  and  window  is  in  a 
separate  section.  The  patriarch,  who  lives  there, 
has  five  wives." 

At  last  we  stopped  before  a  house.  Our  tired 
horse  sighed  as  though  his  heart  would  break  with 
relief.  But  we  were  to  face  disappointment. 

"No  room  for  travellers  this  night,"  said  the 
elder  when  Mac  accosted  him.  I  saw  by  the 
man's  eye  that  he  disapproved  of  us  and  our 
errand,  although  he  looked  with  pity  on  our  tired 
horse.  He  pointed  south. 

"You  can  make  American  Fork  in  three  miles." 

It  happened  that  we  entered  this  new  town  in 
the  right  place  for  us.  A  rather  larger  adobe 
than  usual,  was  lighted  up  and  the  owner  agreed 
to  shelter  us  for  the  night  by  our  paying  a  good 
stiff  fee. 

I  gave  the  horse  a  good  feed  and  rubbed  him 
down  before  I  went  in  to  wash  and  eat. 

Our  host  was  a  hearty  old  man,  and  one  of  the 
early  converts  from  Wales.  He  had  prospered 
in  lands  and  goods,  and  was  loud  in  his  praise  of 
this  practical  religion.  I  cannot  say  much  for  his 
table  manner;  for  he  ate  with  dirty  hands,  and 
used  them  twice  to  break  up  lumps  of  sugar  in 
the  bowl.  The  table-ware  was  primitive,  indeed, 
but  the  cloth  was  clean  and  the  meal  well  cooked 
by  his  energetic  daughter. 


A  Long  Ride  Through  Utah  Valley         69 

"Sugar  was  a  very  scarce  article  in  my  early 
days  here,  and  I  don't  like  to  see  it  wasted." 

He  was  a  widower,  but  no  polygamist.  He  was 
a  sample  of  the  earnest,  but  ignorant  peasant 
class  of  the  old  world  who  had  greatly  improved 
their  material  welfare  by  this  change  of  country 
and  faith. 

Mac  met  a  hprse  trader  at  the  table,  and  I 
was  highly  entertained  by  their  efforts  to  make  a 
swap.  The  trader's  animal  was  a  little  worse 
blown  than  Mac's,  but  after  all  he  was  not  the 
easy  mark  that  he  was  supposed  to  be,  and  he 
kept  his  horse. 

We  pulled  out  the  next  morning  somewhat  re- 
freshed but  hauling  the  same  full  load.  We 
passed  over  dry  creeks,  sand  ridges,  and  through 
the  town  of  Battle  Creek;  the  site  of  an  early 
fight;  through  Provo,  the  county  seat,  to  Spring- 
ville,  the  most  progressive  of  all  these  valley 
settlements. 

A  knife-edged  lofty  ridge,  Mount  Aspinwall, 
overlooked  us  all  the  way  on  the  east,  while  the 
lake  glittered  in  the  sun,  six  miles  distant  on  the 
west.  Down  the  canyons  of  this  range  at  times 
the  winds  swept  with  sudden  blasts,  and  crossing 
the  lake,  churned  its  waters  into  a  fury.  The 
breezes  were  refreshing  since  they  blew  across  the 
road  and  not  along  it.  We  saw  many  pretty  spots 


70  Tenderfoot  Days 

of  green,  such  as  fields  of  wheat,  nearly  ripe,  al- 
falfa patches  of  emerald  hue  and  thrifty  peach 
and  prune  orchards.  We  carried  off,  from  one 
farm  a  bale  of  alfalfa,  and  a  generous  sample  of 
early  fruit. 

Just  one  year  later,  I  rode  through  this  region 
on  a  long  horseback  journey,  and  all  the  green  was 
gone  although  it  was  yet  early  summer.  The 
locusts  were  in  the  land.  They  had  come  in  such 
clouds  as  to  darken  the  day,  and  with  such  hearty 
appetites  that  even  the  bark  on  the  orchard  trees 
was  consumed  before  they  left.  Their  hatching 
ground  was  in  mountainous  Idaho,  on  the  north, 
and  periodically  they  passed  out,  leaving  destruc- 
tion in  their  track.  Even  a  piece  of  green-straw 
matting  hung  on  a  fence  to  air  and  dry,  went  down 
their  ready  throats. 

While  in  Springville,  we  prospected  for  a  site 
in  the  interests  of  a  liberal  school.  We  had  been 
invited  to  do  so  by  some  of  the  local  men  of  in- 
fluence. There  was  a  desire  for  something  new 
in  this  progressive  town  at  that  time,  and  it  bore 
fruit  three  years  later  in  a  well  built  brick  edifice 
for  school  and  mission  work.  It  was  later  known 
as  the  Hungerford  Academy,  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Presbyterian  Mission  Board.  It  was  put 
in  charge  of  George  Washington  Leonard,  an  ex- 
staff  officer  of  the  Union  Army. 


A  Long  Ride  Through  Utah  F  alley         71 

Of  course  we  conferred  with  the  so-called  lib- 
eral element.  In  most  of  these  settlements  there 
were  to  be  found  a  number  of  disaffected  people. 
Some  were  so  because  they  had  been  treated 
domineeringly  by  the  church  authorities,  who 
ruled  the  civic  as  well  as  the  religious  interests  of 
these  valley  towns;  others  because  they  had 
changed  their  views,  with  their  increase  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  at  large,  due  to  their  contact 
with  the  new  and  non-Mormon  elements  filtering 
in  to  the  population  of  the  territory;  still  others 
because  of  business  interests  which  carried  them 
outside  of  the  commerce  of  the  co-operative  stores 
to  deal  with  mining  men  and  mining  machinery. 

In  the  old  hortatory  days,  when  the  Mormon 
preachers  painted  every  gentile  with  a  coat  of 
black,  they  gave  a  false  idea  of  the  outside  world, 
which  these  business  men  now  found  to  be  un- 
true, for  the  gentile  was  not  as  black  as  he  had 
been  painted. 

A  natural  reaction  set  in,  and  a  friendliness  for 
the  new-comers  sprang  up,  and  we  found  a  few 
men,  but  no  women,  who  desired  an  established 
opposition  to  the  dominant  church;  in  order  to 
check  its  power  and  to  give  a  spice  of  life  in  the 
business  world  in  place  of  the  old-time  autonomy 
and  monotony. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THROUGH    SPANISH    FORK   CANYON   AND   THISTLE 
VALLEY 

"Now  let  us  sing,  Long  live  the  King, 

And  Gilpin,  long  live  he; 
And  when  he  next  doth  ride  abroad, 

May  I  be  there  to  see!" 

Cowper 

NEXT  day  we  pushed  our  slow  way  up 
Spanish  Fork  Canyon.  Some  faint  tradi- 
tion of  the  early  Spaniards,  the  conquistadores  of 
the  days  of  Iberian  rule,  having  reached  as  far 
north  as  this  section,  riveted  the  name  upon  this 
great  gap  in  the  mountains. 

There  is  no  doubt  those  hardy  men  almost 
demons  in  a  way  did  dare  the  extreme  both  in 
perils  and  distance.  Some  of  them  may  have 
gazed  with  their  fierce  eyes  set  in  bearded  bronzed 
faces  upon  these  very  hills  and  vales. 

They  were  too  far  afield  for  them  to  put  more 
than  the  stamp  of  their  name  on  this  region,  so 


Through  Spanish  Fork  Canyon  73 

when  the  Mormons  came,  the  Redmen,  the  Piutes 
and  the  Utes,  were  the  sole  possessors  of  the  soil. 

It  was  an  up-hill  and  rocky  road  with  the  heat 
of  mid-day  reflecting  from  the  granite  rocks  lin- 
ing the  canyon  sides  and  producing  much  perspira- 
tion, both  for  drivers  and  their  steed. 

Yet  the  evening  drawing  nigh,  the  characteristic 
wind-blast  down  this  rocky  tube  chilled  us  to  the 
bone,  a  quick  change  from  the  noon's  torrid  heat. 

"I  know  of  a  good  spring  hereabouts,"  said 
Mac,  "one  of  my  liberal  friends  of  Mount 
Pleasant  comes  this  way  at  times,  and  always 
camps  by  it;  and  he  told  me  to  be  sure  to  sample 
its  waters." 

This  was  refreshing  news  to  me,  for  our  last 
drink  had  been  from  a  muddied  and  shallow  irri- 
gation ditch.  Round  point  after  point,  we  slowly 
toiled,  still  ascending  and  looking  for  this  spring 
that  never  appeared.  It  was  about  two  hours 
later  that  we  caught  the  odor  of  rotten  eggs,  and 
knew  that  our  spring  was  a  sulphur  and  thera- 
peutic one.  Our  liberal  friend  had  his  joke  on 
Mac,  when  the  latter  stood  at  this  actively  boil- 
ing spring,  with  no  desire  to  drink. 

Yet  at  this  writing  a  costly  sanitarium  occupies 
the  ground,  people  come  from  afar  to  spend  both 
time  and  money  for  their  health  at  this  evil-smell- 
ing spring.  Pure  water  is  a  prize  when  difficult 


74  Tenderfoot  Days 

to  obtain,  and  at  that  particular  moment  having 
no  foresight  of  the  future  business  value  of  this 
sulphur  spring,  we  would  have  exchanged  it  for  a 
few  gallons  of  the  cold  article. 

We  pushed  on  with  dry  tongues,  and  toward 
evening  we  entered  Thistle  Valley,  now  alive  with 
the  coal  industry  and  the  overland  railroad,  but 
then  a  wild,  remote,  upland  plain. 

Here  we  found  water  in  a  little  rill  oozing  out 
of  the  rocks,  clear  and  cold  as  a  Kentucky  spring. 

"Why  not  camp  out  here?  Plenty  of  wood 
around  for  a  fire.  It  will  be  dark  soon!" 

"No.  Not  here.  Let  us  push  on,"  said  Mac. 
"I  know  a  valley  rancher  at  no  great  distance. 
He  is  what  is  called  a  'Jack'  Mormon  and  favors 
our  work  for  the  liberals." 

I  grumbled,  for  I  had  no  great  liking  for  Mac's 
"little"  distances,  as  I  remembered  that  his  eye 
was  lacking  in  accuracy  when  it  came  to  his  re- 
membering mileage  by  the  road. 

On  again  we  went  making  a  long  day  of  it.  I 
expected  the  poor  horse  to  strike,  not  for  pay,  but 
for  shorter  hours;  but  the  good  animal  had  more 
grit  than  his  appearance  suggested.  The  miles 
were  Irish  ones,  if  not  Russian,  such  as  make  the 
Siberian  Versts  such  a  weary  terror  to  the  travel- 
ler. We  passed  curve  after  curve  in  the  road; 
crossed  land-draws  without  number,  expecting 


Through  Spanish  Fork  Canyon  75 

every  moment  to  sight  the  rancher's  roof.     It  re- 
alized a  modern  war-song: 

"It's  a  long,  long  way  to   Tipperary, 
It's  a  long  way  to  go." 

It  began  to  look  as  though  Mac  had  been  sold 
again  as  to  this  ranch  house;  as  he  had  been  with 
reference  to  the  sulphur  spring  which  he  had  been 
urged  to  sample. 

We  broke  another  tug,  just  by  way  of  diversion 
and  use  of  a  little  more  time  which  we  could  not 
spare.  I  used  the  old  rope  again  and,  of  course, 
being  tired  I  had  to  say  something  about  buck- 
skin, as  an  essential  part  of  an  "experienced" 
traveller's  outfit,  the  same  being  lacking  with 
us. 

The  moon  rose.  Her  silvery  face  shone  above 
the  hills  before  us  and  made  the  uneven  road 
visible,  but  the  chaparral  on  either  hand  looked 
all  the  blacker.  My  imagination  began  to  work 
concerning  the  Indians,  who  were  off  the  reserva- 
tion, trailing  us  in  these  dark  places;  or  those 
white  bandits,  of  worse  blood,  who  often  waylaid 
travellers  at  such  an  uphill  disadvantage  as  was 
ours. 

We  were  nervously  silent,  but  if  a  bear  had 
crashed  through  the  brush,  a  coyote  had  yowled, 
or  an  owl  had  hooted,  we  might  have  shouted 
from  fright,  expectant  of  an  attack  from  Indians 


76  Tenderfoot  Days 

or  bandits. 

Just  then  a  dog  barked  with  a  homelike  sound, 
and  before  long  we  saw  the  outline  of  a  corral 
fence  lining  the  road;  then  a  house  loomed  up  all 
in  the  dark. 

We  drew  up  at  the  bars  across  the  road  and 
holloed.  The  tired  rancher?  waked  out  of  his 
first  sleep,  came  down  to  us  in  no  gracious  mood; 
but  who  could  blame  him  at  that  midnight  hour? 

We  were  the  victims  of  Mac's  defective  judg- 
ment of  road  distances.  He  had  come  this  way 
once  before  with  a  fast  road-team  downgrade, 
and  had  expected  as  rapid  return  upgrade  with 
one  horse  and  a  heavy  load. 

We  squared  this  late  call  with  our  "Jack"  Mor- 
mon host  in  the  way  which  is  usually  acceptable 
to  midnight  landlords.  We  fed  our  horse  and 
bedded  him  with  straw,  and  then  climbed  to  an 
empty  loft  under  the  house  roof,  pillowing  our 
weary  heads  on  hay. 

This  Thistle  Valley  is  known  for  its  rich  soil. 
The  greasewood  grows  high  and  strongly,  a  sure 
evidence  of  the  depth  of  earth.  It  was  sparsely 
settled  in  that  day.  At  one  end  there  was  an 
Indian  Reserve:  a  section  of  the  great  Uintah 
Reservation  for  the  Piute  nation. 

We  met  a  crowd  of  Indian  horsemen  the  next 
morning.  They  were  wild  and  saucy,  mocking  us 


Through  Spanish  Fork  Canyon  77 

and  our  outfit  and  racing  around,  whooping  just 
to  scare  our  horse  by  their  antics;  but  it  was 
wasted  effort.  They  did  not  know  that  our  horse 
was  a  sedate  Presbyterian  charger,  whose  charg- 
ing days  were  long  past.  Our  beast  just  looked 
at  them  in  surprise,  and  plodded  on. 

We  grinned  at  these  red-painted  horsemen  and 
cried  "How!"  in  return  to  their  "How!",  and  so 
passed  on. 

It  was  right  here  that  an  emigrant  tragedy 
occurred  some  twenty  years  earlier.  The  foot- 
hills slope  often  into  the  valley  with  a  long  finger 
of  lower  hills  that  finally  sink  to  the  level  of  the 
valley  road.  Behind  this  projection,  a  war  party 
of  these  same  Piutes  or  Utes  lay  in  ambush  for 
the  overlanders  to  California. 

Two  wagons,  the  prairie  schooner  kind,  with 
covers  like  an  ark,  and  loaded  to  the  guards  with 
everything  for  the  household,  came  crawling  along 
this  upgrade.  Too  independent  to  travel  with 
the  majority,  they  had  struck  out  by  this  shorter 
way  to  reach  California  by  the  road  via  Saint 
George  and  Arizona;  thus  avoiding  the  awful 
Nevada  deserts. 

Unsuspecting  and  unprepared  they  here  were 
attacked  by  the  Indians,  who  made  a  dash  from 
behind  a  low  hill  abutting  the  road.  It  ended 
in  the  usual  way.  After  a  sharp  and  gallant  fight 


78  Tenderfoot  Days 

the  strong  white  men  fell,  and  all  were  slain,  even 
to  the  babies.  Blood  and  scalps  and  burning 
wagons,  yelling  Indians  and  dying  men  made  the 
spot  memorable. 

We  looked  at  the  scene  and  could  almost  see  it 
enacted  again;  one  of  many  such  bloody  halts  to 
the  stream  of  gold  seekers,  where  a  family  passed 
out  of  knowledge,  and  left  but  a  rumor  to  satisfy 
the  anxiety  and  long  waiting  of  friends  left  be- 
hind. 

At  last  Thistle  Valley  opened  into  a  larger  one, 
the  San  Pete  Valley,  and  from  our  high  ground 
we  could  see,  by  the  dark  patches  along  the  val- 
ley's sides,  the  sites  of  the  various  settlements  In 
this  remote  region  populated  by  Scandinavian  con- 
verts to  Mormonism. 

The  telephone,  the  rural  delivery,  the  automo- 
bile of  this  favored  day  have  brought  all  this 
section  into  the  hustle  of  the  world,  since  that 
quiet  day  when  I  first  looked  upon  this  broad  ex- 
panse of  fertile  land.  The  mountains,  then  so 
silent,  now  glow  with  the  electric  lights  of  great 
mining  centers.  The  richest  coal  is  found,  and 
feeds  the  mountain  freight  engines  of  the  railroad 
which,  as  the  agent  of  modern  commerce,  has 
invaded  and  captured  this  region  of  riches. 

Our  good  old  horse,  and  I  was  really  getting 
proud  of  his  grit  despite  his  disreputable  looks, 


Through  Spanish  Fork  Canyon  79 

brought  us  late  in  the  day  to  the  Liberal  Hall 
fronting  the  Main  street  of  Mount  Pleasant,  a 
town  of  three  thousand  inhabitants. 

Here  were  the  headquarters  of  the  liberal  ele- 
ment of  the  valley,  and  this  also  was  our  destina- 
tion. In  this  Hall  was  the  school,  in  embryo,  for 
which  the  seats  had  been  brought  from  afar  so 
toilsomely.  I  laughed  when  they  had  been 
arranged  in  the  lecture  room  of  the  Hall,  to  see 
one  after  another,  the  men,  Liberals  and  Mor- 
mons, sit  in  them  to  test  their  strength.  They  did 
it  so  boyishly  and  with  much  evident  interest. 
These  seats  were  then  up-to-date,  but  by  this  time 
they  are  antiquated,  and  broken  up  for  fuel. 


CHAPTER  IX 

OPPOSITION  TO   THE   LIBERAL   SCHOOLS 

"The  schoolmaster  is  abroad,  and  I  trust  to 
him,  armed  with  his  primer,  against  the  soldier  in 
full  military  array" 

Lord  Brougham 

MOUNT  PLEASANT,  the  town  to  which 
I  conducted  my  reader  in  the  previous 
chapter,  was  the  scene  of  the  first  firm  stand  for 
liberal  schools  in  the  territory.  This  stand  with 
the  opposition  to  it  was  due  to  the  advent  of  my 
companion  Mac,  who  not  in  the  best  of  health, 
came,  under  medical  advice,  in  the  spring  of  1876, 
to  the  mountain  altitudes  and  air  of  Utah  Ter- 
ritory to  recuperate  after  an  arduous  course  of 
higher  education. 

Though  frail  in  body,  his  mind  and  spirit  were 
sound  and  needed  no  tonic.  In  fact,  he  was  full 
of  grit  in  this  respect,  a  primary  condition  of  suc- 
cess in  any  line  of  endeavor  in  the  Far  West  of 
that  period.  It  is  an  uphill  enterprise  to  estab- 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         81 

lish  a  new  order  of  schools  anywhere,  for  the 
conservatives  invariably  oppose  new  methods  on 
the  principle  that  the  old  are  better. 

At  that  time  the  Mormon  schools  were  very 
elementary,  for  they  had  been  overshadowed  by 
the  religious  teaching  and  zeal  of  a  people  who 
combined  church  and  state,  and  who  regarded 
advanced  education  as  a  door  of  infidelity. 

Making  due  allowance  for  the  distractions  of 
frontier  life,  and  the  strenuous  claims  of  agri- 
culture in  a  new  land  on  its  people,  it  remains 
true  that  the  mental  nourishment  given,  as  school- 
ing, to  the  children  was  very  poor. 

Mac  and  those  who  backed  him  in  far-off  New 
York  felt  strongly  in  the  matter  of  a  better  and 
American  training  for  the  children  of  this  remote 
territory.  Thus  his  health  and  his  task  joined  to 
establish  his  interests  in  a  territory  so  far  distant 
from  his  home. 

Invited  to  Mount  Pleasant,  by  certain  men  of 
liberal  views,  he  found  himself  one  March  morn- 
ing stepping  from  the  bi-weekly  stage  at  the 
town's  post-office,  a  stranger  among  a  strange 
people.  This  was  the  first  attempt,  outside  of  Salt 
Lake  City,  to  establish  the  cause  of  liberal  edu- 
cation. 

At  the  beginning  he  did  not  have  very  intel- 
lectual associates.  An  intellectual  man  himself, 


82  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  a  fine  teacher,  his  best  helpers  were  no  orna- 
ments to  education.  His  Mormon  opponents  soon 
dubbed  two  of  Mac's  closest  attendants,  "Right 
Bower/'  and  "Left  Bower." 

"Right  Bower"  was  a  peripatetic  sewing- 
machine  agent,  who  was  zealous  in  the  interests  of 
the  original  Howe  sewing-machine,  of  very  heavy 
running  gear,  and  which  sold  readily,  at  that  time, 
for  one  hundred  and  ten  dollars  each.  "Left 
Bower"  was  an  old  miner,  down  on  his  luck,  with 
the  illuminated  face  of  a  free-drinker,  whose  resi- 
dence in  the  valley  was  due  to  the  marriage  of  his 
only  daughter  to  a  son  of  a  zealous  Mormon 
elder. 

It  was  these  two  men  who  created  the  first  lib- 
eral sentiments  among  the  "Jack"  Mormon  class 
of  the  people,  an  element  rather  weak  in  the 
faith,  although  not  quite  apostates. 

The  Mormon  elders  were  first  amused  at  this 
effort  to  supplement  their  establishments,  but  as 
the  school  drew  and  grew,  concern  followed 
amusement  and  soon  anger  succeeded  this  con- 
cern. A  vigorous  call  for  aid  was  sent  to  Salt 
Lake.  Brigham  Young  himself  with  two  apostles 
came  down  to  organize  a  crusade  of  words  against 
this  liberal  movement. 

The  little  town  was  wrought  up  to  fever  heat, 
and  after  Brigham  Young  returned  to  his  head- 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         83 

quarters,  Mac  expected  trouble.  It  came.  One 
night  he  had  just  closed  a  meeting  in  the  adobe 
hall  which  they  occupied.  There  had  been  noisy 
exits,  and  noisier  calls  outside.  A  crowd  surged 
in  front  and  filled  the  yard.  They  began  throw- 
ing stones  and  adobe  bricks  from  a  pile  of  mate- 
rial close  by,  with  cries  of: 

"Run  him  out  of  town!" 

"Rock  his  building  good  and  plenty!" 

"We  want  no  Liberal  here!" 

"Come  out  and  clear  out!" 

"Take  him  out,  boys!" 

A  rush  was  made  for  the  door.  It  had  been 
closed  a  few  minutes  before.  It  bent  beneath 
the  weight  of  many  shoulders,  and  threatened  to 
break. 

Mac  had  a  Colt  revolver  which  he  carried  by 
the  advice  of  the  officers  at  Fort  Douglas.  From 
a  small  side  window  his  head  and  arm  appeared 
suddenly.  He  ordered  the  crowd  to  step  off  from 
the  property,  and  retire  to  the  street. 

"If  any  one  of  you  breaks  down  that  door  I 
shall  feel  at  liberty  to  defend  my  property  with 
this  weapon."  He  pointed  his  revolver  at  them. 
Mac,  while  small  of  stature  and  somewhat  frail 
of  build,  in  that  day,  yet  had  the  square  jaw  and 
prominent  chin  of  the  Scot.  His  grit  had  its 
effect,  for  while  more  stones  and  bricks  were 


84  Tenderfoot  Days 

thrown,  no  more  rushes  at  the  door  took  place. 

In  fact  in  a  few  minutes  the  crowd  withdrew 
with  muttered  threats.  The  Mayor  of  the  town, 
who  also  was  the  bishop  of  that  Stake  of  Zion 
had  just  come  forward,  and  with  a  few  words  so 
quieted  the  people  that  they  dispersed  to  their 
homes. 

I  do  not  think  they  would  have  gone  to  such  an 
extreme  course  as  to  imperil  Mac's  body,  since 
the  military  camp  at  Fort  Douglas  one  hundred 
and  thirty  miles  north  had  a  with-holding  power 
on  fanaticism. 

It  was  a  well-executed  effort  to  scare  him  off, 
and  would  have  succeeded  against  a  faint-hearted 
man.  Mac  went  to  his  cot-bed  that  night  as 
quietly  as  usual,  but  his  gun  was  under  his  pillow. 
He  might  trust  in  the  Lord  but  he  kept  his  powder 
dry  according  to  the  code  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

We  expected  such  demonstrations  of  opposition 
at  the  first  opening  of  these  new  schools.  I  have 
personal  knowledge  of  a  school  beginning  at 
American  Fork,  a  town  near  the  canyon  of  that 
name,  where  the  scenery  is  said  to  rival  in  gran- 
deur that  of  the  Yosemite  Valley.  This  town  had 
a  liberal  element  and  a  school  was  begun  with 
a  teacher  in  charge. 

"Why  do  you  come  here  ?  You  are  not  wanted," 
said  the  Bishop  of  that  Stake  of  Zion. 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         85 

"We  come  to  teach  the  young  people  better 
manners  and  methods." 

"We  can  do  all  that  now  as  we  have  done  other 
things  in  the  past.  There  is  no  need  of  you  or 
your  so-called  work." 

"We  are  at  liberty  to  do  our  work  here,  if  law 
abiding,  wherever  the  flag  flies.  The  flag  flies  in 
this  Territory  now." 

This  Bishop  gave  the  quiet  word  to  the  town 
roughs  to  annoy  the  teacher  and  his  school.  A 
howling  brigade  was  formed  on  the  occasion  of 
every  night  meeting,  and  hideous  noises  were 
made  outside  the  door.  Then  followed  a  throw- 
ing brigade,  and  stones  showered  on  the  building. 
At  the  last  part  of  the  assault,  several  adobe 
bricks  were  hurled  through  the  windows,  breaking 
the  sash  as  well  as  the  glass,  and  striking  the 
opposite  wall  of  the  room.  The  Bishop,  being 
the  Mayor  of  this  incorporated  town,  did  not  heed 
the  complaints  made  to  him  in  his  civic  capacity, 
and  the  disturbers  had  full  swing  until  they  grew 
tired  of  this  outrage  themselves,  and  the  suf- 
ferers were  rewarded  for  their  patience  by  a  lull 
in  the  opposition. 

Meanwhile  the  Liberals  were  boycotted  at 
the  Co-op  stores,  and  they  had  to  send  to  Jew 
merchants  in  Salt  Lake  City  for  their  supplies. 
It  was  nerve-racking,  yet  a  combination  of  pa- 


86  Tenderfoot  Days  * 

tience  and  courage  wore  out  the  first  hot  opposi- 
tion. Then  followed  an  entrenched,  stubborn 
action  of  the  church  elders  which  by  personal 
visits  and  threats  kept  away  most  of  the  young 
people  and  older  children  for  a  time. 

While  I  was  temporarily  in  charge  of  the 
Mount  Pleasant  school,  during  Mac's  absence  in 
the  East,  I  came  in  contact  with  "Lo,"  the  Ute 
Indian  of  the  Territory,  in  all  his  blanket  and 
gun  glory.  These  Utes  were  a  fine  race  of  men 
physically.  Beneath  their  brave  exterior,  of 
course,  there  was  left,  despite  Mormon  church 
teaching,  much  of  the  cruel  temper  of  the  Apaches 
or  the  Arapahoes.  The  Mormons  made  much  of 
these  Utes,  for  according  to  their  theology  the 
Redmen  of  North  America  are  the  descendants 
of  the  Lamanites,  the  original  inhabitants  of  the 
land  in  the  times  of  Mormon  their  prophet.  For 
further  particulars,  see  the  book  of  Mormon. 

They  had  a  way  of  calling  these  natives  by  a 
pet  name,  "The  Battle  Axes  of  the  Lord,"  and 
used  them,  in  harmony  with  that  name,  to  do  their 
disagreeable  work,  as  I  shall  have  to  recount  in 
a  later  chapter. 

I  have  always  thought  that  the  Bishop  of 
Mount  Pleasant  sent  this  band  of  Battle-Axes  to 
scare  me  off.  I  did  not  look  so  fierce  of  face  as 
Mac,  the  organizer  of  the  school.  Late  one 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         87 

warm  afternoon  in  June,  the  doors  were  ajar  to 
catch  all  the  air  possible.  I  was  in  the  front  room 
of  the  house  adjoining  the  school  hall,  and  before 
I  was  aware  of  it,  with  a  sudden  tramp  of  feet, 
the  kitchen  to  the  rear  of  the  house  was  filled  with 
blanketed  Utes.  As  I  came  in,  an  array  of  keen 
black  eyes  regarded  me.  They  were  squatted, 
Indian  fashion,  around  the  walls,  each  with  his 
gun  held  well  within  his  knees.  A  deep  voiced 
demand  followed. 

"Want  meat!  Want  pie!  Heap  hungry !" 
How  they  knew  that  we  had  a  batch  of  pies  baked 
that  day  puzzled  me  at  the  moment,  but  I  after- 
wards heard  that  the  Bishop  had  told  these  strong 
allies  of  his,  that  I  had  a  liking  for  the  American 
national  pie,  and  they  would  surely  find  some  at 
my  house. 

The  speaker  was  really  tall  and  straight,  a 
fair  copy  of  Cooper's  "Last  of  the  Mohicans;" 
but  he  was  very  lean  and  hungry  looking.  He 
had  a  crafty  face,  and  his  eyes  were  full  just  then 
of  malice  and  insolence. 

Their  attitude  towards  me  was  due  to  the  fol- 
lowing fable,  told  to  them  by  the  Mormon  elders. 

"The  Mormon  was  the  Indians'  true  friend  and 
brother,  while  the  American  was  the  Redman's 
white-faced  foe,  who  took  away  their  land,  and 
shot  them  when  they  resisted  this  robbery,  using 


88  Tenderfoot  Days 

the  blue-coated  soldier  to  do  the  deed." 

These  Indians'  ancestors,  in  earlier  days,  had 
come  in  fighting  contact  with  the  migratory  and 
invading  white  man  and  much  injustice,  spoliation, 
and  slaughter  had  followed  that  contact  of  fiery 
spirits  of  both  sides,  as  the  Redman  sought  to 
stop  the  emigrant  invasion  of  his  hunting  grounds. 

I  had  been  skillfully  associated,  by  the  Mor- 
mons, with  the  frontier  white  men  whose  com- 
mon saying  was  "The  only  good  Injun  is  a  dead 
Injun,"  and  this  accounted  for  the  unfriendly 
looks  of  my  Indian  visitors. 

Now  the  kitchen  larder  was  not  very  full.  To 
supply  with  food  a  baker's  dozen  of  strapping 
natives,  was  a  problem.  It  was  our  policy  to 
please  rather  than  to  offend  these  men,  in  an  en- 
deavor to  counteract  base  stories  to  our  prejudice. 

It  so  happened  that  a  big  batch  of  dried-fruit 
pies  had  been  cooked  that  very  morning  by  a  busy 
company  of  women  who  were  interested  in  our 
Liberal  Hall  work. 

"No  meat  to-day;  too  many  mouths,"  I  said  to 
the  modern  fac-simile  of  Cooper's  Indian. 

"Go  to  the  Bishop  up  the  street,  who  has  a  big 
house;  also  many  cooks.  He  can  give  you  much 
meat  to  eat." 

The  Indian's  eyes  glittered  as  I  mentioned  the 
Bishop. 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         89 

It  was  the  duty  of  the  Church  rulers,  in  accord- 
ance with  their  creed,  to  entertain  strangers  or 
travellers,  white  or  red,  and  to  make  no  charge 
for  this  hospitality.  The  Bishops  especially 
prided  themselves  on  keeping  this  ancient  custom 
alive.  I  knew  this  and  also  did  "Lo,"  the  Indian. 

"You  give  pie.  American  pie  heap  good  for 
Ute." 

"Do  you  eat  white  man's  pie?"  I  asked,  eyeing 
them  all  in  turn.  "I  will  see  if  there  is  enough  to 
go  around  this  circle." 

It  had  come  to  me  that  the  batch  of  pies,  now 
on  the  shelves  of  the  little  six  by  six  pantry,  would 
serve  a  better  purpose  in  the  tough  stomachs  of 
these  Utes,  than  in  those  of  visitors  assembling 
that  evening  in  the  Social  Hall. 

The  eyes  of  all  the  Indians  followed  me  into  the 
pantry,  and  were  on  me  when  I  came  out  with  a 
dozen  of  the  ladies'  pie-provisions.  I  handed 
them  to  "Lo."  With  the  rest  in  the  pantry  there 
was  just  enough  to  go  around  the  circle,  which  in 
itself  was  fortunate,  for  it  gave  to  every  man  a 
pie,  and  so  all  were  on  an  equality.  It  was  a 
sight  to  the  eyes  to  look  at  such  an  Indian  feast. 
They  enjoyed  those  pies,  and  I  enjoyed  seeing 
them  eat. 

The  meal  was  soon  over,  for  it  does  not  take 
an  Indian  long  to  eat  a  pie.  They  were  pleased 


90  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  amused  at  my  good  natured  response  to  their 
demand.  Said  the  leader: 

"Heap  good  man.     Heap  good  pie." 

Then  they  stood  up,  and,  with  grins  and  more 
friendly  eyes,  they  went  out  in  Indian  file,  and  I 
saw  them  no  more.  I  never  heard  of  their  call 
on  the  Bishop.  I  was  rather  pleased  at  the  out- 
come of  this  visit. 

I  soon  had  visitors  of  another  kind.  A  delega- 
tion of  six  women  came  rushing  in. 

"What  were  those  Indians  after  here?"  they 
cried. 

"After  pie." 

"What!  our  pies!  You  surely  did  not  feed 
those  lazy  beggars  our  pies." 

"I  did.  They  came  demanding  food  with  guns 
in  their  hands,  thinking  to  scare  me.  To  please 
them  and  gain  their  good  will,  and  off-set  the 
Mormon  stories  of  American  hate,  I  fed  them 
your  pies." 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!  Our  pies!  What  shall  we  do 
to-night?" 

"Bake  some  more  now.  Those  in  the  stomachs 
of  the  Utes  are  heralds  of  peace  for  us.  It  de- 
pends on  your  cooking  whether  their  repast  will 
disturb  their  digestion." 

"No  fear  of  that!  An  Indian's  digestion  is 
that  of  an  ostrich." 


Opposition  to  the  Liberal  Schools         91 

Soon  I  was  hustled  out  of  the  little  kitchen,  all 
too  small  for  six  active  women.  These  women 
knew  that  at  the  social  of  the  evening,  some  food 
distinctively  American,  would  be  in  demand. 
They  decided  that  a  batch  of  New  England  pies 
would  be  ideal,  so  they  re-doubled  their  morn- 
ing's efforts  and  doubled  the  pie  out-put  for  that 
night's  festivities. 


CHAPTER  X 

BEHIND  THE  CURTAIN 

"Is  this  a  dagger  which  I  see  before  me, 
The  handle  toward  my  hand?    Come,  let  me 
clutch  thee" 

Shakespeare 

AFIELD  fence  in  Utah  often  occasions  a 
marked  contrast  in  the  appearance  of  the 
soil.  On  one  side  of  it  there  is  green  alfalfa, 
peach  and  plum  trees  as  thrifty  as  the  best,  due  to 
the  little  rills  of  irrigation  water.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  same  fence  there  is  nothing  but  the 
silt  and  sand  of  a  pure  desert,  the  habitat  of  sage 
brush  and  the  horned-toad. 

The  two  sides  of  a  shield  are  often  quite  dif- 
ferent; and  there  are  two  sides  to  Mormonism, 
as  in  most  religions.  I  have  shown  you  the  fair 
and  fertile  looking  side,  but  in  order  to  be  true 
to  the  facts,  as  I  saw  them,  I  must  show  you  the 
other. 

I  am  not  the  critic  or  judge  in  this  matter.  The 
92 


Behind  the   Curtain  93 

reader  can  occupy  that  position,  if  he  so  desires. 
Otherwise  time  and  the  great  future  must  unite 
to  be  it,  and  will  pronounce  a  true  judgment.  I 
am  but  a  recounter  of  my  own  observances  and 
experiences. 

First  a  few  words  about  the  Mormon  Rurales, 
Rough  Riders  or  Destroying  Angels.  These 
were  the  Danites,  or  Mormon  military  police,  and 
their  work  was  for  both  Church  and  State. 

These  strangely  gathered  people  were  isolated, 
enthusiastic,  then  intolerant,  and  afterwards 
crafty  and  cruel  in  the  administration  of  their 
public  affairs.  Many  vile  things  have  been  said  of 
the  Mormons.  I  do  not  join  in  that  abuse. 
Where  so  much  smoke  has  arisen  there  must  be 
some  fire  as  the  cause  of  it. 

We  know  that  the  Mormons,  as  an  outgrowth 
of  the  persecutions  they  endured  in  the  East,  and 
as  a  defensive  measure,  organized  a  militia,  called 
the  Nauvoo  Legion.  It  drilled  openly  and  was 
perfected  as  an  engine  of  war  shortly  before,  and 
also  during,  the  days  of  the  Civil  strife  in  the 
States.  Those  days  saw  interests,  so  paramount 
to  an  insignificant  evidence  of  Mormon  dis- 
loyalty, that  amid  the  rush  of  events  and  the  crash 
of  war,  no  notice  was  taken  of  this  Legion,  or 
steps  enforced  to  put  it  down. 

In  the  Utah  of  my  experience,  this  Legion 


94  Tenderfoot  Days 

kept  sub-rosa ;  yet  remained  intact  as  a  military 
arm,  of  Mormon  interests,  and  could  be  used  at  a 
moment's  call.  It  had  been  the  great  reserve 
force  of  the  Territory  in  the  past  and  was  the 
power  behind  the  throne  which  enabled  Brigham 
Young  to  execute  his  will  in  the  days  of  the 
5o's.  In  fact,  the  Mormon  police  or  Rurales, 
popularly  known  as  the  "Danites"  or  the  "Des- 
troying Angels" ;  using  the  biblical  phraseology  so 
common  among  these  people,  were  really  the  active 
and  executive  arm  of  this  militia. 

Thus  the  Church  had  something  more  than 
moral  force  to  give  power  to  its  mandates.  It  had 
a  physical  force,  like  any  country  armed  to  meet 
its  foe,  or  put  down  rebellion  within  its  own  bor- 
ders. 

These  were  picked  men  in  horsemanship,  and 
the  use  of  weapons.  They  were  "Angels"  of  help 
to  their  own  kind,  but  "Destroyers"  of  all  opposi- 
tion. They  had  a  picked  leader  in  the  person  of 
Porter  Rockwell,  and  an  able  second  in  Bill  Hick- 
man,  both  men  of  that  period,  and  the  products 
of  the  open  wild  life  of  the  far  West. 

Porter  Rockwell  was  a  romantic  person  in  ap- 
pearance. Well  proportioned,  with  dark  aquiline 
features,  bright  black  eyes,  and  long  curling  hair, 
he  was  a  brunette  Custer  in  his  style  and  charm  of 
leadership. 


Behind  the  Curtain  95 

Probably  his  most  important  act  was  leading 
his  band  south  in  pursuit  of  the  Missourian  over- 
land party  of  emigrants,  the  especial  objects  of 
hate;  since  it  was  in  Missouri  that  Joseph  Smith 
and  his  brother  had  been  slain  by  the  mob. 

I  had  some  facts  given  me  by  a  little  man, 
whose  name  was  Little.  He  was  indeed  insig- 
nificant to  look  at,  but  a  perfect  wasp  in  the  sting 
of  his  words  when  he  was  willing  to  talk  about 
these  things,  "behind  the  curtain"  as  he  called 
them.  He  had  a  small  farm  at  a  little  town 
called  Benjamin  near  the  borders  of  Lake  Utah; 
and  was  well  acquainted  with  Rockwell  and  his 
band.  What  his  former  relationship  to  the 
Danites  was  I  never  could  get  him  to  tell,  but  he 
had  inside  knowledge  of  many  dark  deeds  of  those 
early  days. 

"Old  Brigham  used  to  hunt  down  these  apos- 
tates with  Rockwell's  men,  like  you'd  hunt  rabbits 
in  the  brush." 

"What  did  he  do  with  them  when  he  caught 
them?" 

"Sent  'em  to  hell  across-lots.  That's  the  way 
the  old  prophet  talked  of  them  as  knew  too  much, 
and  had  dropped  out  the  Church." 

"Well,  what  does  that  phrase  really  mean?" 

"Just  this.  You  never  saw  those  men  alive 
again.  They  were  caught  slipping  through  the 


96  Tenderfoot  Days 

canyons,  east  or  west,  but  they  never  got  clean 
away.  If  any  one  asked  for  them  it  was  said 
that  'the  Injuns  raised  their  hair.'  ' 

"You  mean  that  they  were  killed  and  scalped?" 

uYes.  But  they  weren't  killed  by  Injuns, 
though  their  scalps  might  hang  at  a  Piute's  belt." 

That  was  as  near  as  I  could  get  Little  to  say 
who  killed  them.  You  can  reach  your  own  con- 
clusions. 

The  Mormons  had  a  crude  doctrine,  which  they 
derived  from  the  Old  Testament  theology. 
Human  blood  might  be  shed  when  necessary.  The 
red  line  is  seen  running  through  these  Jewish  writ- 
ings. The  Mormons  called  this  doctrine  "Blood 
Atonement,"  and  meant  by  it,  that  the  shedding 
of  a  man's  blood,  though  it  destroyed  his  body, 
was  the  means  of  saving  his  soul  from  final 
apostasy.  To  the  Latter  Day  Saint,  who  was 
initiated  in  all  his  religious  ritual,  it  was  the  un- 
pardonable sin  to  forsake  the  Church  of  the 
Latter  Days,  once  you  had  become  a  member. 

I  tried  to  get  Little  to  give  me  the  names  of 
these  men  who  died,  because  they  had  dropped 
out  of  the  Church,  and  also  the  dates  and  places 
of  their  deaths.  He  was  mum. 

"See,  I've  had  to  take  a  fearful  oath  to  keep 
silent.  I  dare  not  tell.  The  Church,  here,  is  a 
isecret  order,  and  has  its  penalties,  which  are 


Behind  the   Curtain  97 

carried  out." 

"Well  there  is  no  fear  of  that  now  that  Brig- 
ham  is  dead  at  last,  is  there?" 

He  only  shook  his  head.  This  conversation 
was  in  October,  1877,  two  months  after  the  auto- 
crat of  the  Mormons  had  died  in  Salt  Lake  City. 

I  met  Bill  Hickman  when  in  Bingham  Canyon 
at  the  mining  camp.  This  was  in  1875.  Porter 
Rockwell  was  not  living  then,  and  Hickman  had 
himself  dropped  out  of  action,  although  you 
could  not  say  that  he  was  an  apostate.  He  was 
a  stout-built,  cynical-featured  man,  with  an  eye 
that  glittered  and  said  things;  but  his  lips  were 
silent  as  to  the  past.  He  was  not  put  out  of  the 
way,  because,  as  he  himself  said,  "I  know  too 
much  for  them  to  do  it." 

He  was  still  an  active  man,  although  his  hair 
was  grey;  but  his  mount  of  a  horse  was  like  that 
of  a  cowboy  in  the  round  up  days,  and  you  could 
see  that  his  home  was  in  the  saddle.  He  dropped 
to  his  feet  with  the  soft  touch  of  a  cat,  and  in  his 
earlier  years  he  must  have  been  a  hard  man  to 
handle  in  a  fight. 

Both  Rockwell  and  Hickman  were  at  Mountain 
Meadows  in  '57,  when  the  hundred  and  fifty  Mis- 
sourians,  on  their  way  to  California,  were  killed 
to  the  last  man  and  child  by  the  Indians  (?). 

It  would  have  been  a  great  thing  to  have  gained 


98  Tenderfoot  Days 

an  account  of  that  massacre  from  Hickman,  but 
when  asked,  he  only  answered  with  a  shrewd  lift 
of  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  man  whom  I  knew,  an  old  soldier 
of  Uncle  Sam,  who  was  one  of  the  first  of  the 
soldiers  who  came  to  the  Territory  prior  to  the 
Civil  War  when  the  Government  thought  it  wise 
to  have  a  military  camp  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Salt  Lake  City. 

This  man  fell  in  love  with  a  daughter  of  Utah, 
a  buxom  young  woman,  who  beguiled  him  into 
joining  the  Mormon  Church  in  order  to  marry 
her.  He  was  never  at  heart  a  very  loyal  Mor- 
mon, and  so  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  give  im- 
partial testimony. 

John  Bennet  was  of  Scotch  birth,  and  could 
never  get  away  from  the  conscience  for  truth, 
which  he  had  imbibed  from  the  Old  Kirk. 

I  met  him  in  American  Fork,  and  found  he 
knew  a  good  deal  of  the  past  of  the  Danites,  and 
was  willing  to  talk. 

"Were  you  here  in  1857,  when  the  Missouri 
party  went  south?" 

uYes,  I  saw  them  go  through  this  town,  a  tired 
looking  lot." 

"How  did  you  treat  them?" 

"None  of  us  loved  a  Missourian.  They  had 
badly  treated  us  fourteen  years  before  and  we  had 


Behind  the   Curtain  99 

not  forgotten.  These  emigrants  were  hard  up 
and  wanted  to  buy  supplies  from  us.  We  wouldn't 
sell  them  a  thing." 

"Didn't  you  do  anything  for  them?" 

"Just  a  little.  I  had  no  personal  reason  to  hate 
'em,  so  I  gave,  to  a  tall  thin  man  with  a  big 
family,  a  sack  of  flour  and  a  ham  on  the  sly." 

"You  say  on  the  sly;  was  there  a  watch  kept 
over  them  by  the  Mormons?" 

"Yes,  and  a  close  one.  The  order  had  gone  out 
to  let  them  feed  themselves,  if  they  could,  and  not 
to  take  their  money  for  any  food;  so  I  had  to  be 
cautious.  I  felt  pity  for  the  sick  wife  of  this  man, 
she  looked  so  worn,  and  had  such  hopeless  eyes. 
I  fancy  she  foresaw  the  fate  awaiting  them  far- 
ther south." 

"Did  they  stop  here?" 

"Yes,  they  camped  a  day,  just  outside  the  town, 
to  rest  their  beasts,  and  fill  their  water  casks  from 
the  lake  three  miles  away.  I  talked  to  one  man, 
who  wanted  a  drink  for  his  wagon-load  of  young 
ones.  My  house  was  not  far  away.  I  noticed 
his  hat  as  he  took  the  bucket  I  gave  him.  It  had 
once  been  a  fine  felt  hat  and  white.  It  was  very 
dirty  from  use,  but  he  wore  it  so  it  resembled  a 
sugar-cone,  with  a  string  band  around  the  bot- 
tom. It  looked  like  those  conical  hats  the  Mexi- 
can greasers  wear,  only  theirs  are  straw  made  and 


ioo  Tenderfoot  Days 

this  one  was  fine  felt." 

"Did  you  ever  see  him  again?" 

"No,  but  I  saw  his  hat;  I'll  tell  you  about  it. 
After  these  people  went  on,  a  little  rested,  with 
water  but  no  food  from  us,  all  was  quiet  for  a  day 
or  two;  then  a  band  of  the  Danites  rode  into 
town,  with  Bill  Hickman  at  the  head  of  them.  I 
didn't  see  Porter  Rockwell,  for  I  understood  that 
he  had  gone  ahead,  with  a  select  few,  to  keep 
close  trail  on  the  emigrants. 

"They  kept  pretty  mum.  They  were  all  around 
and  rode  good  horses,  and  seemed  in  a  great 
haste ;  for  they  left  in  a  few  minutes,  in  a  cloud 
of  dust." 

"Did  you  see  this  band  again  soon?" 

"Yes,  in  about  ten  days  I  suppose,  they  came 
back  a  weary  looking  lot;  but  this  time  they  had 
something  to  say." 

"What  was  their  report?" 

"That  the  Missourians  were  all  killed  by  the 
Indians,  who  had  caught  them  unawares  and  sick 
at  Mountain  Meadows,  far  to  the  south  and 
every  man,  woman  and  child  had  been  scalped." 

"How  did  they  speak  of  this  massacre?" 

"Well,  they  said,  it  served  'em  right.  .  They 
got  their  dues  for  what  they  did  us  years  ago! 
The  Indians  have  saved  us  a  lot  of  trouble." 

"Did  the  Danites  show  any  signs  of  being  in 


Behind  the   Curtain  101 

the  fight?" 

"Yes,  a  few  had  wounds.  They  all  had  more 
weapons  than  they  needed  apiece.  And  one  man, 
I  am  certain,  wore  that  conical  white  felt  hat 
that  had  been  on  the  head  of  the  tall,  lean  Mis- 
sourian  whose  family  I  watered  at  my  place.  I 
was  curious  and  got  near  to  him  to  ask  about  it, 
but  he  wouldn't  talk.  Yet  I  saw  a  bullet  hole  in 
that  hat,  that  showed  that  its  wearer  had  been  in 
a  fight,  before  it  fell  from  the  head  of  its  first 


owner." 


The  Battle  Axes  of  the  Lord,  the  Piutes  were 
a  good  disguise  for  the  Danites,  and  scape-goats 
for  the  blame  of  this  massacre.  There  is  little 
doubt,  both  Utes  and  Destroyers,  were  together 
in  the  deed.  Doubtless  they  looked  like  a  band 
of  hostile  Indians.  In  that  far-away  meadow,  the 
grass  was  red  with  blood,  shed  to  avenge  an  an- 
cient wrong,  done  by  other  Missourians,  and  in 
this  was  fulfilled,  to  the  letter,  the  old  Jewish  cry 
of,  uan  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth." 
The  avengers  of  blood  got  the  blood  they  sought 
after  fifteen  years  of  vengeful  waiting.  The 
mills  of  time  grind  slow,  but  they  grind  most 
surely  their  grist. 

The  Piutes  of  the  San  Pete  and  Sevier  valleys 
had  the  odium  of  this  massacre  in  the  eyes  of  the 
public  for  many  a  long  day.  There  were  those 


IO2  Tenderfoot  Days 

who  knew  enough  to  be  dissatisfied  with  this  stere- 
otyped explanation,  and  it  took  twenty  years 
more  for  justice  to  bring  the  evil  doers  to  its  bar. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1877  that  one  saw  a 
satisfied  expression  on  the  face  of  every  Gentile 
in  the  Territory.  The  United  States  Courts,  af- 
ter years  of  examination  and  preparation  of  the 
case,  at  last  had  prosecuted  to  the  full  extent  of 
the  law  the  murderers  of  the  emigrants  of  '57. 

The  culprit  was  no  Indian.  He  was  a  white 
man.  It  might  have  been  Brigham  Young  him- 
self, since  he  was  autocrat  of  both  Church  and 
State  in  those  days.  He  skillfully  evaded  the 
blow,  which  he  saw  was  inevitable,  and  it  was 
allowed  to  fall  upon  the  local  Bishop,  John  T. 
Lee.  He  was  the  responsible  person,  through 
whom,  the  authorities  carried  out  their  purposes 
in  that  locality.  Although  promises  were  made 
to  him  that  he  should  be  safe-guarded  from  gov- 
ernment prosecution,  he  was  allowed  to  carry  all 
of  the  responsibility  to  the  last. 

Having  been  found  guilty  by  the  government, 
the  higher-ups  let  him  go,  as  a  sacrifice,  and  he 
was  "hanged  by  the  neck  until  dead." 

Everywhere  that  I  went  I  noted  the  dismay 
of  the  Mormon  that  the  government  could  ferret 
out  so  old  a  misdeed.  No  effort  of  the  Church 
could  offset  the  chagrin  of  the  people. 


Behind  the   Curtain  103 

I  suppose  many  other  deeds,  committed  in  the 
same  high-handed  and  fanatical  way,  were  trou- 
bling the  leaders.  They  feared  that  they  also 
might  be  brought  to  the  bar  of  justice,  and  the 
guilty  ones  punished.  There  is  no  question  that 
a  good  deal  of  killing  took  place  between  1850 
and  1865  that  was  not  due  to  accident,  Indians, 
personal  quarrels  of  a  frontier  population,  but 
was  the  result  of  fanaticism. 

It  went  about  arresting  men  and  women,  who 
were  not  staunch  of  faith,  and  was  not  content 
with  putting  them  into  prison  on  manufactured 
charges,  but  put  them  to  death  in  a  quiet  way. 

But  it  was  the  spectacular  and  wholesale  killing, 
together  with  the  vengeful  boastings  of  the 
Church,  that  called  so  much  attention  to  the 
Mountain  Meadow's  crime  and  so  brought  the 
sword  of  Justice  to  smite  in  behalf  of  the  law. 

As  we  study  human  nature  and  history,  we  find 
this  strange  mingling  of  good  and  evil  in  religion, 
the  red  and  white  line  woven  into  one  strand.  It 
is  hard  indeed,  as  human  beings,  to  be  the  judges 
of  such  people  and  their  acts.  They  endeavored 
to  do  well  and  right,  but  they  fell  through  the  in- 
fluence of  an  over-zeal,  which  swept  them  away 
to  folly  and  the  spilling  of  blood  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CREED  THAT  CAUSED  THE  DEED 

"So  many  gods,  so  many  creeds! 
So  many  paths  that  wind  and  wind, 
When  just  the  art  of  being  kind 
Is  all  this  sad  world  needs." 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 


shot  does  not  leave  the  gun  unless  there 
is  a  powder  charge  behind  it.  The  things 
which  I  have  noted  before  and  behind  the  Cur- 
tain of  Events  in  Utah,  could  not  arise  without  a 
sufficient  cause. 

That  cause  is  found  in  the  creed  of  the  people 
who  settled  the  Territory  while  yet  a  wilderness, 
the  hunting  ground  of  nomadic  Indians. 

A  history  of  world  populations  records  the 
shedding  of  much  human  blood  at  the  behest  of 
creeds.  It  is  the  easy  mistake  of  earnest  faith  to 
follow  the  path  of  intemperate  zeal.  Egypt, 
Assyria,  Persia,  Greece,  and  Rome,  as  nations, 
saw  the  priests  of  religion  offering  the  blood  of 

104 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        105 

human  beings  to  the  gods,  on  splendidly  built 
altars.  The  same  is  true  of  the  New  World. 
Cortez  and  his  men-at-arms,  great  shedders  of 
human  blood,  beheld  the  Aztecs  of  Anahuac,  an- 
cient Mexico,  offering  human  sacrifices  at  the  al- 
tars' steps;  yet  these  Spaniards  in  the  retreat  of 
"Noche  Triste,"  the  Doleful  Night,  shed  as  much 
blood  of  the  Aztecs  as  religion  had  done  in  a 
score  of  years;  since  that  older  Doleful  Night, 
when  Caiphas,  the  High  Priest,  spoke  concern- 
ing Jesus  of  Nazareth,  "It  is  expedient  that  one 
man  die  for  the  people." 

In  every  land  and  clime,  human  blood  has  been 
offered  in  religious  sacrifice.  In  Jewish  ancient 
days,  in  Classic  days,  in  the  days  of  Nero,  in  those 
of  the  Inquisition,  in  Auto-da-Fe's,  on  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's Eve  in  Paris,  at  Smithfield  fires  in  Lon- 
don, in  Protestant  and  Catholic  revenges,  in  Flor- 
ida and  Louisiana, — on  to  the  days  of  the  Mis- 
souri mob-violence,  when  the  two  Mormon 
Smiths  fell,  the  holocaust  of  blood  for  religion's 
sake  was  continuous,  until  the  slaughter  in  the 
lonely  wastes  of  Southern  Utah  showed  the  error 
of  it  all. 

To  use  a  theologic  term,  the  Mormon  creed  is 
Anthropomorphic.  It  teaches  a  materialized 
Deity  with  body,  parts  and  passions  as  a  man. 
Here  we  have  the  key  to  this  creed  of  strangely 


io6  Tenderfoot  Days 

mixed  theory  and  practice.  I  do  not  go  into  the 
matter  of  the  credibility  and  genuineness  of  the 
Mormon  books  of  belief.  A  war  of  words  has 
raged  since  1827,  and  there  is  no  need  of  another 
syllable  on  the  thread-bare  subject.  What  I  say 
here  I  have  gathered  from  the  printed  sermons 
of  such  leaders  as  Brigham  Young,  Orson  Pratt, 
Heber  C.  Kimball,  Orson  Hyde,  and  Lorenzo 
Snow;  all  discourses  published  by  the  press  of  the 
Mormon  Church,  between  1855  and  1860,  in  Salt 
Lake  City.  In  these  discourses  I  found  the  doc- 
trines really  preached  to,  and  accepted  by,  the 
people.  These  rough,  and  often  rude,  pulpit 
teachings  were  subsequently  withdrawn  by  the 
Church  authorities  at  Salt  Lake,  and  at  the  time 
of  my  sojourn  in  Utah,  it  was  difficult  to  purchase 
the  volumes.  However,  a  friend  of  mine  in 
Prove,  a  county  seat  overlooking  Lake  Utah, 
loaned  four  of  the  volumes  to  me  for  examination, 
but  would  not  sell  them  at  any  price,  and  after  re- 
turning them  I  was  unable  to  secure  other  copies. 
As  I  remember  these  sermons  to  the  people, 
they  seemed  to  teach  that  Adam  was  the  only 
God  of  this  world;  and  he  was  also  the  God  of 
Jesus  Christ.  It  was  admitted  that  Christ  had 
a  previous  era  before  appearing  in  this  world,  and 
that  he  is  to  have  a  future  era  of  Millennial  Tri- 
umph in  Salt  Lake  City.  This  is  affirmed  with 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        107 

strength. 

There  is  a  strong  tinge  of  Millennialism  and  of 
modern  Russellism  in  these  teachings.  But  Christ 
is  as  God  to  Joseph  Smith,  and  so  this  first  prophet 
of  the  Faith  called  the  Church  he  established 
"The  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter  Day 
Saints."  Now  follows  the  nut  of  all  this.  It  is 
this.  That  Joseph  Smith  is  the  god  of  this  gen- 
eration of  men,  and  so  the  Latter  Day  Saint  re- 
gards his  assassination  with  the  same  feeling  that 
orthodox  Christians  regard  the  crucifixion  of 
Christ  by  the  Jews. 

According  to  these  sermons,  Joseph  Smith, 
when  living  in  Wayne  County,  New  York  State, 
was  visited  by  the  angel  Moroni,  son  of  the 
prophet  Mormon,  who  revealed  to  him  the  an- 
cient history  of  America.  He  showed  him  the 
written  plates,  whose  hieroglyphics  were  inter- 
preted by  the  stones,  called  the  Urim  and  Thum- 
mim. 

He  learned  that  America  was  first  peopled  by 
Noah,  and  later  by  the  family  of  Lehi,  a  rem- 
nant of  the  Jews  who  had  escaped  from  captivity 
in  the  days  of  King  Zedekiah.  These  came  across 
to  Chili,  and  then  traveled  north  by  the  Pacific 
coast,  and  so  became  the  progenitors  of  the  Red- 
men.  Eras  of  faith  and  apostasy  followed  to  the 
year  before  Christ  500,  when  the  prophet  Mor- 


io8  Tenderfoot  Days 

mon  was  slain,  and  these  record  plates  were  hid- 
den in  the  hill  Cumorah  in  Wayne  County,  there 
to  remain  until  time  was  ripe  to  reveal  them  to 
Joseph  Smith  by  the  visit  of  the  angel  Moroni. 

This  angel  further  revealed  that  this  book  of 
Mormon  was  to  be  added  to  the  scriptures  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament.  The  Faith,  founded  on 
the  whole  of  these  books,  was  to  be  preached  until 
the  Millennial  Dawn  of  Christ's  Triumph.  This 
Triumph  should  be  reached  in  the  interior  of 
North  America,  in  the  tops  of  the  mountains. 
Moreover  this  Latter  Day  Faith  was  to  be  the 
recipient  of  everyday  revelation  from  Heaven  to 
its  leaders.  As  an  organization,  it  was  to  include 
all  the  ancient  orders  of  priesthood. 

It  had  two  kinds  of  priesthood:  The  Melchi- 
zedek,  which  included  the  Prophet,  the  First  Pa- 
triarch, the  Twelve  Apostles,  the  Seventy  Coun- 
cillors, and  the  whole  body  of  the  High  Priests ; 
and  the  Aaronic  priesthood  which  included  the 
Bishops,  Lower  order  of  priests,  the  Elders,  Dea- 
cons, and  Ward  Teachers  without  number. 

When  I  was  a  resident  of  Utah,  it  was  claimed 
that  there  were  7,234  religious  offices  in  the 
Church,  whose  membership  was  then  estimated  at 
100,000  people.  This  creed  claimed  to  possess 
the  powers  of  revelation,  inspiration,  miracles, 
prophecy,  visions,  tongues,  and  healing  gifts.  All 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        109 

these  were  in  active  use,  and  all  this  was  supposed 
to  be  resident  in  Salt  Lake  City  in  the  Church, 
called  the  "Latter  Day  Saints." 

You  can  see  at  once  how  unlike  any  other  new 
western  city  this  one  was.  It  was  another  Je- 
rusalem brought  down  to  date.  Welded  to  these 
strange  doctrines  and  excessive  claims,  were  the 
following  very  practical,  and  sensible  teachings : — 

"We  believe  in  being  honest,  virtuous,  and  up- 
right; in  doing  good  to  all  men,  and  that  an  idle 
or  lazy  person  cannot  be  a  Christian  nor  have 
salvation/'  You  see  in  this  the  powder  that  had 
explosive  force  enough  to  make  a  telling  shot, 
with  the  multitude  of  half  taught  and  visionary 
people  found  all  over  the  world  of  to-day. 

There  is  no  place  here  for  the  grafter,  the 
boodler,  the  promoter,  the  liar,  the  bum  and  the 
tramp.  In  fact  I  did  not  find  that  type  of  hu- 
manity among  the  Mormons.  I  had  to  go  into  the 
gentile  mining  camps  to  come  across  that  kind  of 
human  trash.  If  my  reader  wants  a  full,  detailed 
account  of  this  strange  faith,  let  him  read  one 
of  the  many  worthy  and  competent  authors  who 
go  into  this  subject  exhaustively,  such  as  Burton, 
Robinson,  Dickson  and  Stenhouse. 

Polygamy,  so  prominent,  when  I  was  in  Utah, 
was  really  an  afterthought  of  this  faith,  and  came 
into  prominence  through  Brigham  Young,  as  a 


no  Tenderfoot  Days 

new  revelation  in  1857. 

The  two  Smiths,  Joseph  and  Hyrum,  the  mar- 
tyrs to  Missourian  violence,  did  not  proclaim  po- 
lygamy or  practice  it,  if  their  family  descendants 
are  to  be  credited.  The  Josephite  branch  of  the 
Mormon  Church  repudiates  the  doctrine,  and  the 
practice  to  this  day. 

So  much  in  the  Bible  seems  to  condone  if  not 
permit  polygamy  from  the  days  of  Abraham,  the 
father  of  the  Jewish  race,  with  his  Hagar  as 
well  as  Sarah  for  a  wife;  to  the  times  of  Jacob 
and  his  concubines  with  two  sisters  for  wives. 
Then  uxorious  David  and  his  still  more  wived  son 
Solomon,  whose  glory  so  much  bespoken  was  not 
seemingly  dimmed  by  his  harem  of  one  thousand 
concubines. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  a  certain  type 
of  mankind  should  revive  the  polygamy  of  the 
ancient  world,  give  it  standing  by  claiming  a  reve- 
lation permitting  it  among  the  faithful,  in  order 
to  build  up  Zion  with  a  seed  of  true  believers. 

It  was  not  so  difficult  for  a  born  leader  and 
master  of  assemblies  like  Brigham  Young  to  rivet 
this  practice  on  a  credulous  people.  He  saw  if  he 
succeeded  in  getting  a  good  many  good  people 
and  leading  men  committed  to  this  practice,  that 
he  had  them  bound  tight  in  a  bundle  of  life  from 
which  there  was  no  escape  and  which  would  make 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        in 

them  stick  together  against  all  opposition. 

He  saw  how  it  would  make  the  people  singular, 
and  keep  them  intact  from  the  seductions  of  the 
world.  He  saw  that  it  would  prevent  the  social 
evil  of  great  cities,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Utah 
had  no  white  slavers  in  those  days. 

He  knew  the  Moslem  element  was  strong  in 
many  men,  that  a  sensualistic  God  and  carnal 
pleasures  as  a  reward  would  win  with  such  men, 
where  the  more  spiritual  and  monastic  teachings 
of  historic  Christianity  failed. 

So  with  these  factors  at  work,  and  the  ap- 
parent sanction  of  Old  Testament  scripture,  to 
give  authority  to  a  new  revelation,  Brigham 
Young,  a  genius  for  religious  leadership,  pro- 
claimed polygamy  as  a  doctrine  of  the  Latter  Day 
Church. 

Yet  polygamy  has  its  horrors,  and  they  were 
constantly  out-cropping  in  domestic  circles. 

I  will  relate  a  few  instances  that  came  under  my 
eyes. 

While  staying  in  American  Fork,  I  met  Profes- 
sor Orbs,  of  the  town  schools.  This  school  cov- 
ered the  educational  ground  from  the  elementary 
to  the  academic.  It  was  all  under  one  roof.  The 
higher  branches  were  but  poorly  attended.  The 
young  men  and  young  women  could  not  come 
regularly  to  the  school,  since  their  services  were 


H2  Tenderfoot  Days 

more  needed  in  the  homes  and  the  fields.  Orbs 
was  a  scholar,  and  a  graduate  of  old  Bowdoin 
College.  After  the  Civil  War  was  over,  he  went 
west  like  many  of  the  enterprising  young  men  of 
that  period.  He  was  finally  invited  to  teach  in 
Utah  Territory,  and  was  offered  a  principalship 
by  the  Mormon  church  authorities.  He  was  not 
then  an  announced  convert,  and  his  wife,  to  whom 
he  had  been  married  only  a  few  years,  made  him 
promise  solemnly  never  to  become  a  Mormon. 
On  his  agreeing  to  this,  his  wife  consented  to  go 
to  the  Territory. 

When  I  knew  them,  they  had  been  in  the  Terri- 
tory some  ten  years,  and  Professor  Orbs  was  rank- 
ing high  among  the  Mormons  as  one  of  them. 
He  had  not  kept  faith  with  his  wife,  and  she  was 
full  of  fears  about  the  future.  They  then  had 
four  children. 

Mrs.  Orbs  came  to  me  one  day  in  great  mental 
distress. 

"My  husband  is  really  going  into  polygamy." 

The  tears  were  in  both  eyes  and  voice. 

"He  promised  me  years  ago  never  to  do  it.- 
Now  the  Church  authorities  have  pursuaded  him. 
He  says  it  is  a  step  up,  and  will  better  his  finances. 
Oh!  will  you  not  go  and  see  him;  urge  him  to 
give  up  this  thing?" 

"He  is  not  sincere  in  thinking  it  his  duty,  is  he?" 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        113 

"He  says  he  is,  but  the  girl  he  is  going  to  take 
is  but  eighteen,  and  has  been  one  of  his  scholars. 
She  thinks  it  is  a  promotion  to  be  a  wife  of  a 
professor." 

I  did  all  that  I  could  to  comfort  the  poor  lady 
and  promised  to  see  her  husband.  I  did  this  some 
days  later.  He  was  quite  abrupt  with  me,  and 
said: 

"I  think  that  this  is  no  matter  of  yours.  Our 
Church  believes  in  plural  marriage.  It  is  my 
own  matter." 

I  could  see  at  a  glance  he  was  fully  committed 
to  grieve  his  wife.  It  was  the  old  incentive.  A 
new  young  wife  was  attractive  to  a  middle-aged 
man.  He  was  ready  to  put  aside  his  promise, 
the  society  of  his  faithful  wife,  the  children  she 
had  raised  in  their  home.  The  rosy  young  girl, 
offered  him  by  the  Church,  was  irresistible  to 
a  mind  coarsened  by  the  Mormon  inoculation. 

The  next  I  knew  of  him  was  a  new  house  he 
had  built  for  the  new  wife,  adjoining  his  family 
home.  He  left  for  Salt  Lake  City,  and  the  En-* 
dowment  House,  where  he  went  through  the  rit- 
ual of  taking  another  wife,  and  returned  with  her, 
and  the  Church's  approval  of  living  his  religion, 

His  wife  was  broken-hearted,  and  the  condo- 
lences of  other  polygamous  women  did  not  give 
her  any  comfort,  since  she  was  not  of  Mormon 


H4  Tenderfoot  Days 

stock,  and  kept  intact  her  old  Eastern  views  of  life. 

Eliza  Snow  came  down  with  several  of  her 
associates.  She  was  the  great  woman  of  this 
social  horror.  In  public  she  spoke  eloquently  in 
its  favor.  Quoted  the  Old  Testament  times,  and 
characters.  She  trotted  out  Abraham,  Jacob,  Da- 
vid and  Solomon,  all  men  approved  of  God  she 
said,  and  whose  polygamous  children  became  the 
ancestors  of  Israel. 

"There  is  a  higher  exaltation  for  the  women 
who  aid  in  building  up  Zion;  who  do  their  zealous 
part  to  populate  this  territory  for  the  Saints. 

"We  must  occupy  the  land.  We  must  keep  out 
the  Gentiles.  We  must  give  him  no  place  of  rest 
for  the  sole  of  his  foot.  Women  only  fulfill  their 
end  when  they  bear  many  children.  Children  are 
the  great  asset  of  the  Church.  It  is  the  prophecy 
of  the  scripture  that  'in  Zion  the  streets  shall  be 
full  of  boys  and  girls  playing.'  ' 

Such  teaching  as  this  was  given  to,  and  received 
by,  a  great  audience  in  every  town  on  Eliza 
Snow's  tour,  in  the  interests  of  polygamy.  I  was 
surprised  at  the  audiences  she  drew. 

My  early  opinion,  that  all  women  were  opposed 
instinctively  to  this  doctrinal  horror,  was  upset 
when  I  heard  these  leaders,  among  the  women  of 
the  territory,  thus  advocating  polygamous  mar- 
riages. They  were  women  of  good  education  and 
were  apparently  refined,  both  in  their  manner  of 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        115 

speech  and  dress. 

I  felt  sure  that  if  it  had  not  been  received  so 
meekly,  and  willingly  by  the  women  of  the 
Church,  and  if  it  had  been  stoutly  and  socially 
resisted  by  them  as  a  body,  that  the  practice  of 
polygamy  would  never  have  existed  in  the  Mor- 
mon Church. 

That  Church  would  then  have  stood  on  the 
same  basis  for  criticism  as  those  other  religious 
denominations  of  America,  that  meet  with  no 
overt  opposition  or  persecution.  By  this  doctrine 
it  stands  alone,  singular,  as  an  anachronism;  as  a 
reversion  to  the  type  of  Old  Testament  days,  and 
is  unfit  for  a  place  in  these  later  days  of  higher 
ideals  for  women. 

While  I  was  in  San  Pete  County,  I  called  at  the 
residence  of  the  Bishop  of  Mount  Pleasant.  It 
was  not  a  pleasant  errand  I  was  on.  It  was  to 
make  complaint  of  the  hoodlumism  of  the  youth, 
supposed  to  be  under  his  control,  in  stone  throw- 
ing at  the  hall  where  the  Liberal  school,  and  its 
meetings  were  held. 

The  Bishop  was  not  an  imposing  sight.  There 
was  nothing  stately  about  him,  nor  did  he  wear 
anything  like  canonical  robes,  such  as  we  asso- 
ciate with  the  historic  bishop.  He  was  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  with  slop  pants  and  was  carrying  swill  for 
his  pigs.  He  was  evidently  an  industrious  man,  a 


n6  Tenderfoot  Days 

practical  character.  He  had  need  to  be.  His 
house  was  wide  and  big  in  style,  since  his  family 
was  large.  He  had  five  wives  and  fifteen  children, 
and  there  was,  of  course,  a  financial  side  to  this 
establishment,  which  made  the  Bishop  a  rustler. 

While  I  talked,  I  stood  before  the  front  porch, 
which  was  a  long,  low  screened  affair,  shadowing 
the  whole  front  of  the  house.  There  were  dark 
shadowy  corners  in  it,  but  not  sufficiently  dark  to 
hide  the  array  of  womankind  seated  along  its 
length.  Five  women  occupied  as  many  chairs,  all 
busy  with  their  hands  at  woman's  tasks.  All,  did 
I  say?  No,  I  must  omit  the  fifth,  the  youngest 
looking,  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  look  about. 
She  also  was  the  best  dressed.  She  evidently  was 
the  favorite  wife  of  the  Bishop. 

The  oldest  woman  was  grey,  with  eyes  that  had 
in  them  a  look  of  shyness,  as  well  as  pain.  What 
a  history  those  eyes  had  seen  in  that  household. 
She  was  the  wife  of  the  Bishop's  youth,  and  by 
her  age  she  must  have  seen  something  of  the  ear- 
lier history  of  the  territory. 

The  other  three  women  were  stout  and  healthy 
looking  and  graded  in  their  ages  from  the  first 
to  the  last  wife;  for  no  new  wife,  added  to  the 
Mormon  household,  is  older  than  her  predecessor 
on  the  polygamous  list.  This  is  so  common,  that 
it  is  of  the  nature  of  a  rule.  It  is  the  way  also 


The  Creed  that  Caused  the  Deed        117 

of  human  nature,  the  way  of  the  world,  and  may 
I  say,  the  way  of  foolish  womankind;  for  with- 
out woman's  consent,  this  matrimonial  horror 
could  not  exist  in  a  land  of  laws  and  freedom. 

The  wonder  to  me  was  the  placidity  of  these 
wives.  The  situation  was  accepted.  What  Mos- 
lem ideas  were  growing  up  among  the  younger 
generation,  as  they  advanced  in  years  and  became 
familiar  with  such  a  scene  as  I  have  described. 
They  had  to  recognize,  from  their  infancy  almost, 
the  many  mothers  of  a  Mormon  home.  There 
was  no  fear  of  racial  suicide  in  these  houses. 
Children  were  all  around,  playing  in  the  dust, 
before  their  homes,  or  out  on  the  squares  or 
streets  of  the  town,  in  fact  visible  everywhere. 

The  advocates  of  polygamy  claim  that  for 
health  and  growth  they  outdo  the  children  of  mo- 
nogamy, since  they  say  that  the  mothers  have 
more  time  and  leisure  to  fulfill  their  maternity. 

It  is  a  subject  that  has  its  physical  and  medical 
side,  as  well  as  its  sociological  one,  but  hardly  fit 
for  discussion  in  a  popular  book  for  all  sorts  of 
readers.  I  must  say  that  I  never  saw  healthier, 
sturdier  young  ones  than  the  Utah  children. 

Of  course  the  splendid  climate  and  the  air  of 
these  valleys,  sheltered  from  the  chilly  blasts  of 
the  eastern  Rockies,  with  easy  temperatures  and 
generous  sunlight,  accounted  for  much  of  the 


n8  Tenderfoot  Days 

rude  health  that  I  saw. 

Also  the  outdoor  life  and  the  frugal  food,  due 
to  limited  circumstances,  together  with  the  active 
labor  in  the  gardens  and  the  field,  from  early 
childhood,  wrote  health  on  the  cheeks,  put  good 
blood  into  the  arteries,  and  a  firelight  and  snap 
into  their  eyes.  Yet  I  also  saw  how  this  anoma- 
lous state  of  matrimony  coarsened  the  speech  and 
habits  of  young  Utah,  both  girls  as  well  as  boys. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  PASSING  PROPHET 

"Your  Fathers,  where  are  they?     And  the 
Prophets,  do  they  live  forever?" 

Bible 


HERE  he  goes  !  The  fraud  !  The  cheat  !" 
J.  Ole  Petersen,  of  Ephraim  townsite,  in  the 
San  Pete  valley,  added  some  vigorous  oaths  and 
gestures  to  these  words.  He  was  an  angry  man 
striding  back  and  forth  on  the  front  porch  of  the 
only  public  hotel  in  the  little  town. 

I  had  gone  to  meet  this  tow-haired  Scandina- 
vian in  the  month  of  June,  1877,  with  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Liberal  work  at  heart.  He  was  one  of 
a  few,  in  that  section,  who  was  opposed  to  the 
backing  of  the  Mormon  Church. 

This  valley  was  mainly  settled  by  people  from 
Norway,  Sweden,  and  Denmark.  They  had  re- 
nounced the  stately  Lutheran  Church  of  their  coun- 
try, and  had  welcomed,  with  enthusiasm,  this  Lat- 
ter Day  faith.  It  fed  their  fanaticism  with  prom- 

119 


I2O  Tenderfoot  Days 

ises  of  forty  acres  of  land,  in  each  man's  name,  as 
a  gift  of  a  new,  practical  religion,  now  existing 
in  free  America.  These  people  had  come  over 
to  receive  their  new  start  in  life:  By  their  industry 
they  had  made  homes  for  themselves  in  this  broad 
valley.  Everything  of  their  own  here,  they  owed 
to  the  church.  Why  should  they  not  stick  to  it? 

Now  what  was  the  matter  with  Ole  Petersen, 
that  he  should  revile  the  head  of  that  church,  as 
he  was  passing  through  this  town  of  Ephraim? 
He  was  an  apostate  of  the  most  violent  kind. 
He  had  reacted  powerfully  against  the  Church, 
which  had  brought  him  out,  as  a  boy  with  his 
father's  household,  years  before.  He  had  cause 
for  it,  and  that  cause  was  concrete  in  the  person 
of  Brigham  Young,  who  was  just  then  in  full  view 
of  this  incensed  son  of  the  North  Seas. 

He  had  lost  his  property,  and  that  loss  had 
caused  his  apostasy.  All  this  was  due  to  some 
fine  real  estate  machinery  on  the  part  of  Brigham 
Young's  office.  His  titles  were  voided  and  he  was 
now  almost  penniless.  He  had  been  too  free  of 
speech,  for  Ole  Petersen  was  a  tonguey  man,  and 
the  Church  had  paid  him  up  for  his  talk,  by  tak- 
ing away  his  estate.  This  was  done  through  some 
such  crooked  financial  trick,  as  happens  nowadays 
in  California,  when  an  eastern  tenderfoot  is 
fleeced  by  a  real  estate  broker,  whose  office  is  on 


The   Passing  Prophet  121 

the  curb  of  the  street. 

Of  course  Ole  Petersen  laid  all  of  his  troubles 
and  losses  to  the  autocrat  of  Utah's  finances,  Brig- 
ham  Young.  And  now  this  prophet  was  passing 
by.  He  was  taking  his  last  ride  from  St.  George, 
in  southern  Utah,  where  he  had  wintered,  and 
was  on  his  return  to  headquarters  in  Salt  Lake 
City. 

Brigham  had  been  sick.  The  strokes  of  time 
began  to  tell  on  his  giant  frame;  and  to  face  the 
winter  in  the  low  altitudes  of  St.  George,  below 
the  rim  of  the  basin  and  near  the  border  of  Ari- 
zona's canyons,  was  deemed  the  best  for  him. 
But  a  man  of  affairs  must  attend  to  his  affairs. 
Certain  events  of  late,  like  the  successful  prose- 
cution of  John  T.  Lee  for  the  Mountain  Meadows 
affair,  and  the  odium  that  the  hanging  of  this  cul- 
prit had  brought  on  the  Church,  made  it  necessary 
for  the  ailing  prophet  to  get  back  to  his  seat  in 
Salt  Lake  City.  So  as  soon  as  his  strength  would 
permit,  he  started  on  a  stage  ride  of  two  hundred 
miles  to  the  terminus  of  the  railway,  some  hun- 
dred and  ten  miles  south  of  the  city.  It  was  a 
ride  through  an  almost  hostile  territory,  since 
through  this  end  of  the  country  the  dead  Bishop 
had  a  host  of  relatives  and  friends,  who  were 
angry  and  incensed  at  the  coup  the  government 
had  made. 


122  Tenderfoot  Days 

Lee's  own  family  were  out  with  threats  to  shoot 
the  head  of  the  Church,  and,  while  Ole  Petersen 
was  no  relative,  he  was  hot  in  sympathy  with 
these  threats. 

This  was  Brigham  Young's  last  outing,  though 
he  did  not  know  it.  He  was  not  to  fall  from  the 
shot  of  some  vengeful  Mormon,  but  from  the 
stroke  of  disease.  Dysentery  carried  him  from 
the  sight  of  man  the  following  August. 

I  had  seen  him  two  years  before  robust,  though 
aged.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  was  now 
passing  by.  He  went  fully  armed  and  protected 
like  some  European  monarch  in  danger  of  assault 
from  disaffected  subjects. 

A  cloud  of  dust  announced  the  coming  of  the 
cavalcade.  He  had  left  Manti,  the  county  seat, 
which  like  St.  George  was  a  temple  city.  In  these 
temple  cities  the  rites  of  polygamy  could  be  given 
as  well  as  in  Salt  Lake  City  itself.  In  this  man- 
ner the  means  of  entering  into  polygamy  was 
brought  to  men's  doors  and  the  long  ride  and  ex- 
pense of  a  journey  to  Salt  Lake  was  avoided. 

Brigham  had  a  great  many  friends  in  this  valley 
who  took  pains  to  protect  him  from  Lee's  two 
sons,  who  were  out  to  shoot. 

"Here  he  comes !  Here  he  comes !"  Such  cries 
brought  me  out  on  the  hotel  porch,  with  Ole 
Petersen. 


The  Passing  Prophet  123 

I  had  been  talking  with  him,  but  found  him  a 
restless  listener.  He  was  really  listening  for  the 
cries  to  herald  the  passing  prophet.  He  fidgeted 
and  fretted.  He  was  short  and  sharp  in  his  an- 
swers, and  impatient  in  his  manner.  He  ran  his 
hands  through  his  hair,  and  pulled  his  long  flaxen 
beard  again  and  again. 

"That  d — d  cheat  is  coming  through  here  to- 
day. I'd  like  to  take  a  shot  at  him." 

"What  has  he  done  to  you  that  makes  you  wish 
to  shoot  him?" 

I  will  tell  his  story  in  a  few  words.  His  parents 
had  died  soon  after  settling  near  Ephraim  and 
they  had  left  other  property  than  the  ranch  they 
had  received  from  the  Church.  His  people  had 
means  to  invest,  when  they  first  came  over  from 
Sweden.  Being  a  minor  the  Church  had  taken 
charge  of  this  property  until  he  should  come  of 
age.  As  soon  as  he  had  grown  up,  the  Church 
ordered  him  on  a  mission  to  Sweden  to  make  con- 
verts of  his  fellow  countrymen.  He  knew  what 
this  meant,  since  a  Mormon  missionary  was  sent 
forth  at  his  own  charges  and  had  to  make  his  own 
way  and  provide  for  his  own  expenses. 

It  was  a  very  hardy  and  wonderful  experience 
that  the  Mormon  missionary  had  to  face,  if  sent 
on  a  mission.  Nothing  but  the  hottest  faith  and 
zeal  could  meet  the  need.  Now  Ole  Petersen  had 


124  Tenderfoot  Days 

cooled  off  from  the  faith  of  his  people.  He  had 
seen  some  things  since  childhood  that  he  did  not 
like,  and  there  were  many  things  he  could  not  be- 
lieve. He  had  been  born  with  a  brain  that  wanted 
to  think  out  things,  and  not  take  them  for  granted 
just  because  they  were  spoken  with  authority. 

So  he  refused  the  mission,  and  decided  to  stay 
and  work  his  property  himself.  This  did  not  suit 
the  Church,  which  had  long  used  his  property, 
and  did  not  intend  to  surrender  the  control  of  it. 

He  was  disciplined  for  his  disobedience,  and  it 
was  declared  that  he  had  forfeited  his  rights,  and 
the  Church  further  claimed  that  the  investments 
made  by  the  parents  had  proven  failures,  so  there 
was  very  little  due  him. 

This  little  he  was  given.  He  was  mad  all 
through,  and  left  the  Church's  jurisdiction;  and 
was  counted  an  apostate  to  whom  the  Church 
owed  nothing.  He  interviewed  Brigham  Young, 
who  had  been  very  rough  with  him.  He  had  gone 
away  in  a  hot-headed  rage,  and  his  little  home 
being  in  this  fanatical  town  of  Ephraim,  he  had 
had  a  fighting  time  with  words  and  blows. 

Yet  he  had  the  old  Viking  spirit,  which  kept 
him  on  the  field.  He  had  not  sold  out,  and  left 
for  other  parts,  but  stood  his  ground.  He  was 
trying  to  get  a  Liberal  school  into  this  seat  of 
Mormonism.  That  was  how  I  happened  to  meet 


The   Passing  Prophet  125 

him  that  hot  day  in  June. 

If  all  this  had  occurred  ten  years  earlier,  Ole 
Petersen  would  have  been  "sent  to  hell  across 
lots,"  like  many  others  who  had  fought  the 
Church  of  their  early  faith. 

"Here  he  comes!    Here  he  comes!" 

These  repeated  cries  brought  Ole  out  into  the 
dusty  road,  as  the  trotting  cavalcade  came  up  the 
street. 

Thirty  Piute  warriors  in  paint,  feathers,  and 
blankets,  rode  first  with  their  guns  across  their 
saddles.  These  "Battle  Axes"  of  the  Lord  had 
watchful  eyes  for  any  movements  that  looked  like 
action.  Ole  eyed  them  as  fiercely  as  they  eyed 
him,  and  the  others  in  the  crowd. 

Next  came  a  four  horse  covered  carriage,  with 
an  armed  rider  on  each  side  of  the  vehicle. 
Within,  and  yet  in  view,  sunk  back  in  the  rear  seat, 
with  a  tired  air  of  a  sick  man,  sat  the  Prophet. 
I  caught  a  full  view  of  his  grim,  grey  bearded 
face,  sicklied  over  by  long  illness,  with  a  sallow 
tint  so  unlike  the  rugged  hue  that  I  had  noticed  in 
the  Tabernacle  two  years  before.  He  looked  an- 
noyed as  he  leaned  slightly  forward,  when  he 
caught  the  sound  of  Ole  Petersen's  strident  voice. 

"Oh!  you  Cheat!  Oh!  Church  Fraud!  You 
coward  to  forsake  your  tools!  You  are  the  man 
that  they  should  have  hung  instead  of  Lee  I" 


126  Tenderfoot  Days 

Ole  Petersen's  arms  were  in  the  air,  but  without 
weapons;  and  this  lanky,  angry  man  shook  his 
fist  at  Brigham,  as  he  rapidly  drove  past.  A  mo- 
tion with  a  weapon,  and  there  would  have  been  a 
hail  of  bullets  about  us. 

The  last  I  saw  of  Brigham  Young  was  the  tight- 
ening of  the  mouth  until  it  was  a  thin,  firm  slit 
within  a  grey  bearded  face,  that  you  see  in  the 
characteristic  pictures  of  this  Mormon  leader. 
His  hands  clenched  the  seat  as  the  carriage 
swayed;  and  I  had  looked  my  last  at  the  passing 
prophet.  He  looked  the  sick  man  that  he  was. 

"May  you  die  the  death!  May  God  strike  you 
down!"  This  was  Ole's  parting  shot  as  the  car- 
riage, and  its  advance  riders,  swept  on.  As  events 
showed,  these  words  were  more  deadly  than  any 
shot  that  he  might  have  fired. 

Thirty  white  guards  followed  close  in  the  rear, 
garbed  like  cowboys  and  armed.  These  men 
grinned  at  us,  and  some  few  of  them  sneered  at 
the  angry  Swede,  vociferant  in  the  roadway.  Then 
the  dust  rose  up,  and  hid  them  all  from  sight. 

I  never  thought  that  Ole's  imprecation  would  be 
so  soon  fulfilled.  I  could  see  death  in  the  eye  of 
this  aged  despot,  and  so  expected  his  passing  from 
the  world  would  not  be  long  delayed.  But  hardly 
two  months  elapsed  when  word  came  south  that 
the  President  of  the  Church  of  the  Latter  Day 


The   Passing  Prophet  127 

Saints  had  left  for  the  bourne  from  whence  no 
traveler  returns. 

There  are  some  ancient  faiths  that  proclaim 
their  saneness  of  life  and  creed,  through  the  suc- 
ceeding ages  and  changes.  But  all  such  become 
inert,  and  if  seemingly  quick  with  life,  it  is  but  a 
galvanized  vitality  like  the  movements  of  a  dead 
toad  under  the  electric  spark  applied  to  a  limb. 

See  how  intact  China,  the  oldest  of  all  coun- 
tries, has  remained  after  the  first  discoveries  and 
civilization.  It  would  not  change.  It  would  not 
learn.  So  with  Buddhism.  It  was  content  to  med- 
itate and  forego  action.  It  held  its  ground  for 
ages  by  the  force  of  some  fine,  if  not  beautiful, 
ideas,  but  where  it  lives  to-day  it  is  a  quiescent 
faith,  its  force  lost  to  any  dominance  of  the  world. 

Mormonism  has  truth  elements  within  its 
bosom,  and  because  of  this,  it  will  live  and  thrive ; 
but  unless  it  sloughs  off  the  anachronisms  and  su- 
perstitions, it  will  be  weighted  with  a  corpse  that 
will  hold  it  to  a  body  of  death  which  will  retard 
its  power.  But  it  has  a  practical  element  welded 
to  its  theories,  and  this  may  cause  it  to  change  with 
the  times,  and  keep  up  with  those  times  as  they 
change. 

A  heavy  step  in  the  entry,  and  a  sharp  knock  on 
the  door,  of  the  Liberal  Hall,  in  Mount  Pleasant, 
and  I  opened  to  admit  Ole  Petersen,  an  excited 


128  Tenderfoot  Days 

and  delighted  man. 

"You've  heard  the  news?  That  Rascal's  gone 
to  his  account.  My  curse  came  true!" 

There  were  many  who  felt  like  Ole  Petersen, 
but  a  great  mourning  was  made  throughout  the 
territory,  as  this  modern  Prophet  passed  from 
among  his  people. 

I  soon  got  word  from  superficial  observers  of 
the  conditions  in  Utah,  that  now  the  Master  Mind 
was  gone  and  his  voice  silent,  the  Church,  which 
he  had  built  up,  would  crumble  and  break.  This 
was  the  general  idea,  just  then,  but  it  was  a  false 
one. 

This  singular  mixture  of  the  practical  and  the 
spiritual,  withstood  a  change  of  leaders  with  about 
the  same  ease  that  a  kingdom  meets  the  cry  of, 
"The  King  is  dead!  Long  live  the  King!" 

The  old  order  of  things  went  on  under  a  new 
management.  The  system  was  well  fitted  to  meet 
greater  changes  than  a  death  could  bring,  and 
even  to  face  a  new  condition,  and  prosper  in  a  new 
environment,  if  necessary. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MIXED  MULTITUDE 

"The  Many -headed  Multitude." 

Shakespeare 

IT  was  to  avoid  the  so-called  mixed  multitude 
that  the  Latter  Day  Saints  sought  an  isola- 
tion for  themselves,  and  their  posterity  from  the 
every-day  world. 

In  this  they  were  the  followers  of  the  ancient 
people  of  Israel,  when  they  left  the  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt,  by  a  most  memorable  desert  march,  and 
sought  the  promised  land.  Canaan  was,  indeed, 
such  a  land.  Flowing  with  milk  and  honey — sup- 
plied with  cattle  and  bees — it  was  a  land  of  olive 
orchards  and  vineyards,  watered  by  the  early  and 
later  rains,  and  well  fitted  to  be  a  sample  to  these 
modern  wanderers,  in  their  search  for  a  desired 
habitation. 

I  have  shown  how  they  found  their  heart's  de- 
sire in  the  secluded  mountain  valleys  of  Utah, 
how  also  they  sought  to  keep  off  intrusion,  and 

129 


130  Tenderfoot  Days 

to  protect  themselves  from  schism  and  apostasy. 
I  have  shown  the  logical  outgrowth  of  their  creed. 
It  was  pride  in  their  peculiar  customs  and  confi- 
dence in  their  religion,  which  nerved  them  for  all 
this  strenuous  endeavor  through  forty  years  of 
patient,  persevering,  and  conquering  industry. 

Now  they  deserve  their  meed  of  praise  for  this 
activity  of  mind  and  body,  for  changing  a  waste 
into  a  garden,  and  in  place  of  Indian  tribes, 
peopling  the  land  with  a  civilized  population. 
They  have  done  a  good  turn  for  the  United 
States,  for  while  their  religious  policies  have  made 
them  often  disloyal  and  antagonistic  to  Federal 
Law;  they  have  opened  to  commerce  an  immensely 
rich  region  of  soil  and  minerals,  which  would  have 
remained  quiescent  for  fifty  years  longer. 

I  have  tried  to  be  fair  and  just  to  these  people, 
and  while  noting  their  errors  of  reason  and  ac- 
tion, I  have  also  noted  their  good  intentions  and 
their  hardihood,  in  all  their  history,  as  far  as  I 
have  had  occasion  to  touch  upon  it. 

For  long  years  none  but  the  wandering,  curious 
hunters  and  trappers  travelled  these  Utah  valleys, 
save  the  Indian  tribes  native  to  the  region.  The 
Mormon  Church  had  no  fear  of  friction  with  such 
elements. 

It  was  the  "mixed  multitude"  they  feared,  and 
for  as  long  as  possible  they  kept  it  at  a  distance. 


The  Mixed  Multitude  131 

At  last  there  filtered  out  of  these  mountains,  car- 
ried by  Dame  Rumor,  stories  of  mineral  wealth, 
of  gold  and  silver  deposits  in  the  hills;  stories  like 
those  coming  from  California  in  the  '50'$,  which 
set  on  fire  such  a  tremendous  enthusiasm  for  the 
Pacific  Slope. 

Men  stubbing  their  toes  in  climbing  the  foot- 
hills after  straying  stock,  had  cast  up  nuggets 
from  the  very  ugrass  roots."  Others,  bending 
over  purling  streams  to  quench  their  desert  thirst, 
had  found  "color"  in  their  drinking  cups.  They 
had  stooped  over  to  wash  their  clothes  in  moun- 
tain creeks  and  remained  to  wash  for  gold  in  the 
same  vessels  in  which  they  rinsed  their  dirty  gar- 
ments. 

Of  course  the  usual  exaggeration  of  these  acts 
gave  a  sort  of  Arabian  Nights  version  to  these 
things,  and  they  came  to  the  eastern  world  with 
all  the  charm  of  an  Aladdin's  Lamp.  Then  the 
multitude  stirred,  and  woke  up.  It  cast  covetous 
eyes  toward  the  hills  which  hid  the  Mormon 
people  from  the  world.  Wealthy  men  "grub- 
staked" hard  up  adventurers,  and  sent  them  out 
as  spies  of  wealth.  They  came,  saw,  and  reported 
that  "the  half  had  not  been  told." 

This  started  a  rush  of  capital  and  labor, 
through  the  canyons  by  wagon  road,  and  after- 
wards by  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad.  Miners, 


132  Tenderfoot  Days 

laborers,  gamblers,  storekeepers,  cowboys,  for- 
eigners, Jews  and  Gentiles,  one  and  all  hastened 
into  these  mountain  solitudes  which  existed 
through  the  policy  of  the  Mormon  Church  un- 
touched by  the  hand  of  Commerce. 

Men  of  wealth,  as  usual,  engineered  the  mass. 
The  era  of  the  millionaire  was  at  hand,  but  these 
millions  that  came  were  from  abroad  at  first,  for 
the  United  States  was  still  over  taxed,  and  stag- 
gering commercially  from  the  effect  of  four  years 
of  war.  British,  French,  and  Italian  money  was 
flung  recklessly  into  the  hills,  to  be  sunk  in  am- 
bitious mining  camps,  and  stamp  mills,  under  the 
superintendence  of  men  who  had  no  interest  in  the 
capital  but  their  salary. 

You  can  imagine  the  change  from  the  quiet, 
pastoral,  and  religious  color  of  the  past  days  to 
the  hurry,  hustle,  and  vociferous  business  of  a 
new  frontier  life. 

The  Jew  came  in,  as  he  always  does,  on  the 
crest  of  this  wave  of  commerce.  He  seems  built 
for  trade,  and  being  both  a  genius  at  opening  trade 
centers,  and  a  daring  commercial  gambler,  he  was 
in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  in  every  new  camp  of  this 
"mixed  multitude"  with  his  wares  and  ways.  He 
was  too  shrewd  to  enter  purely  Mormon  towns 
and  so  confront  the  great  "Co-op."  He  wasted 
no  time  on  such  ventures,  but  industriously  sold 


The  Mixed  'Multitude  133 

his  goods  at  three  hundred  percent  profit  to  the 
reckless  crowd,  whose  taste  for  gold  was  ready  to 
pay  any  price  for  tools,  goods,  and  food. 

One  son  of  Israel,  I  knew,  a  good  kind  fellow 
he  was  too,  who  came  into  this  business  boiling 
pot,  with  just  a  pack,  and  before  I  left  the  Terri- 
tory, he  was  living  in  a  palace  in  the  city  of  the 
Saints.  From  'Tack  to  Palace,"  in  five  years, 
was  ugoin'  some,"  as  the  miners  say. 

Now  everybody  could  not  do  that,  but  every- 
body thought  he  could.  So  you  see  the  vim  in- 
troduced by  the  "mixed  multitude,"  and  the  utter 
impossibility  of  stemming  such  a  tide.  The  Mor- 
mon authorities  simply  gasped  at  the  crowd,  made 
one  futile  effort  to  offset  it  with  defunct  laws  of 
the  defunct  state  of  Deseret.  But  they  gave  it  up, 
and  grimly  accepted  the  influx  of  new  people,  with 
their  new  ideas. 

At  first  this  new  tide  of  human  life  and  industry 
ran  along  by  itself,  very  much  as  the  muddy  Mis- 
souri does  where  its  waters  first  enter  the  clearer 
stream  of  the  Mississippi.  But  you  know  the 
universal  rule.  A  little  mud  can  cloud  a  whole 
body  of  water,  and  while  the  Missouri  loses  itself 
in  the  waters  of  the  greater  river,  yet  it  is  the  hue 
of  the  Missouri  that  gives  color  to  the  Mississippi 
at  New  Orleans. 

So  with  the  "mixed  multitude"  and  the  Mor- 


134  Tenderfoot  Days  , 

mons.  Soon  these  newcomers  inoculated  the  Ter- 
ritory with  their  more  modern  notions  of  life, 
and  the  two  adverse  streams,  religious  fanaticism 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  commercial  greed  for 
gold  on  the  other,  ran  a  race  side  by  side  for  a 
decade;  and  then  intermingled  as  one  life  in  camp, 
civic  centers,  and  throughout  the  countryside ;  and 
thus  the  isolation  of  the  Latter  Day  Saint  was 
over. 

So  Utah,  when  I  first  saw  it  in  1875,  was  under- 
going this  change.  The  Missouri  current  of  the 
"mixed  multitude"  was  giving  quite  a  decided 
color  to  the  Mormonism  of  the  past. 

I  saw  a  few  signs  of  the  old  heroic  days,  but 
wherever  I  went  the  stamp  of  the  coming  age 
was  evident,  in  the  looser,  freer  speech,  the  less 
respect,  if  not  ridicule,  given  religion,  and  the  at- 
mosphere of  hard  materialism  common  to  the 
American  frontier  life. 

The  watchword  in  these  regions,  for  a  long 
time,  had  been  "Duty;"  now  it  was  to  be  "Dol- 
lars." Loss  and  gain  set  over  against  one  an- 
other, as  in  most  of  the  circles  of  this  riddle  we 
call  life. 

The  old  settler,  with  his  strong  faith,  gazed 
sourly  at  this  condition  of  things,  and  as  sourly 
proclaimed  the  coming  wrath  of  God;  but  the 
newcomer  of  the  "mixed  multitude"  smoked  his 


The  Mixed  Multitude  135 

black  cigar,  stuck  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and 
answered  with  a  grin  of  derision,  and  a  drive  of 
energy,  that  made  the  new  order  hum  with  the 
engines  of  machinery. 

Bingham  Canyon  sprang  into  life.  It  was  a 
great  gash  in  the  Oquirreh  Mountains,  facing  the 
salt  sea  on  the  one  side,  and  the  Utah  Valley  on 
the  other.  It  was  a  mineral  fissure  that  drew  the 
crowd  of  uthose  who  knew."  It  was  not  a  high 
grade  camp,  as  those  days  valued  mining  camps, 
where  no  ore  was  worked  that  did  not  yield  forty 
dollars  to  the  ton;  but  it  was  a  big  camp,  in  that 
there  was  no  end  to  the  veins,  and  the  pockets 
that  were  beneath  its  apparent  sterile  surface. 

It  was  small  then,  with  a  population  of  four 
thousand  people,  when  I  first  put  foot  in  the  camp 
one  cold  November  day.  It  is  now  a  mining  city 
that  issues  every  year  many  millions  in  dividends 
to  its  lucky  stockholders. 

Alta  City,  in  the  Little  Cottonwood  Canyon, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley,  in  the  Wah- 
satch  range,  and  still  higher  up  in  the  air  than 
Bingham,  with  its  altitude  of  ten  thousand  feet, 
was  a  richer  camp,  and  the  site  of  the  celebrated 
Emma  mine.  This  mine  was  sold  for  three  mil- 
lion dollars  to  British  capitalists,  but  was  found 
afterwards  to  be  a  fraud,  it  having  been  "salted" 
with  ucolor"  by  the  promoters  to  deceive  the 


136  Tenderfoot  Days 

purchasers. 

An  amphitheater  of  hills,  gave  Alta  City  a 
notable  site.  Dumps  and  tunnel  exits  could  be 
seen  all  around,  and  out  of  this  circle  of  industry, 
wealth  poured  and  was  carried  down  to  market 
by  a  miniature  railway,  with  an  average  grade  of 
three  hundred  feet  to  the  mile. 

Nothing  was  withheld  in  the  lavish  outlay  of 
foreign  money,  that  was  making  this  a  lively  camp. 
While  it  is  true  many  became  rich,  it  is  equally 
true  that  great  hosts  were  made  poor.  This  is 
about  the  outcome  of  all  mining  and  fulfills  the 
words  of  Mark  Twain,  who  was  himself  an  old 
miner  as  well  as  an  author — uAs  much  goes  into 
the  hole  as  comes  out  of  it." 

Park  City  was  another  outcome  of  this  min- 
ing fever.  Situated  in  Big  Cottonwood  Canyon, 
and  nearer  Salt  Lake  City,  it  was  conducted  by 
a  set  of  level-headed  men  who  prevented  any  col- 
lapse to  the  camp,  as  finally  overtook  Alta  City. 
The  result  was  that  while  no  furor  was  made  over 
its  location,  yet  it  always  produced  stable  wealth. 
Here  it  was  that  George  Hearst,  then  a  miner  of 
experience  in  California,  bought  out  a  claim  from 
a  few  discouraged  tenderfoot  adventurers.  They 
had  come  within  a  few  feet  of  great  wealth,  when 
they  threw  down  their  picks  and  said,  "we  quit." 
George  Hearst  began  the  next  day,  and  a  few 


The  Mixed  Multitude  137 

hours  later  was  confronted  with  a  vision  of  future 
wealth. 

He  began  his  spectacular  career,  as  a  son  of 
fortune,  at  this  time,  and  began  building  up  his 
remarkable  success  at  the  spot  where  others,  more 
faint  hearted  than  he,  gave  up  the  fight. 

Out  of  this  mine  came  the  means  by  which  he 
became  Senator  of  the  United  States,  as  no  man 
at  that  time  could  become  a  Senator  unless  he  had 
a  long,  a  very  long  pocket  book.  The  state  uni- 
versity at  Berkeley,  California,  and  all  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Hearst's  Syndicate  of  American  News- 
papers, from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  are  under 
obligation  to  this  mine  in  the  Big  Cottonwood 
Canyon. 

Of  course  there  were  flat  failures  in  some  of  the 
camps.  One  such  was  at  Tintic,  where,  at  first, 
great  surface  showings  drew  the  rush,  but  it  was 
a  case  of  "pinch  out"  for  the  camp,  as  it  so  often 
is  with  a  promising  vein  of  ore  in  a  shaft,  or  a 
tunnel.  It  ends  in  a  pocket,  and  a  pocket  holds 
just  so  much,  and  no  more.  So  Tintic,  as  a  camp, 
lies  idle,  dormant,  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR 

"Riches  certainly   make  themselves  wings" 

Proverbs 

THE  prospector  is  the  man  that  makes  mining 
possible.  It  is  his  enterprise,  his  everlasting 
faith  in  prospects,  his  nerve  and  calm  courage,  that 
does  the  trick.  He  casts  a  charm  about  lone  grey 
hills  whose  land  value  is  about  utwo  bits"  per 
square  mile,  the  price  of  a  California  miner's 
drink.  He  rambles  in  the  chaparral,  sage  brush; 
and  is  familiar  with  the  owl's  hoot,  the  coyote's 
howl,  and  the  rattler's  hiss.  But  he  enjoys  his 
tin  can  repast,  over  a  stick  fire,  amid  such  scenes; 
since  he  lives  expectant  that  a  stumble  of  his  foot 
may  unearth  rich  rock,  that  will  give  rise  to  a 
camp  to  be  known  by  his  name  as  the  discoverer. 
Red  Dick  was  such  a  man.  I  met  him  on  the 
slope  of  the  Little  Cottonwood  Canyon  one  hot 
afternoon  in  July.  In  midsummer  the  granite 
walls  of  this  canyon  absorb  the  sun's  rays,  and 

138 


The  Old  Prospector  139 

the  flinty  rocks  reflect  this  heat  from  side  to  side. 
The  bed  of  the  canyon  is  at  furnace  heat  during 
mid-day,  only  cooling  with  the  evening  breeze. 

Red  Dick  was  wiping  the  sweat  from  a  very 
rubicund  face  with  an  old  red  kerchief,  which  he 
wore  loose  about  his  lean  red  neck:  the  red  flannel 
shirt  tucked  into  his  old  pants  accentuated  his  color 
characteristics,  and  the  afternoon's  heat.  He  was 
spitting  and  swearing,  when  I  came  up  to  him,  on 
the  trail  to  Alta  City.  His  bottle  was  broken,  for 
a  slip  from  his  hand  just  as  he  lifted  it,  had  let 
it  fall  on  a  sharp  flint  at  his  feet.  I  saw  disap- 
pointment on  the  face  of  a  thirsty  and  bibulous 
man.  It  was  not  water  he  had  lost,  but  the  fa- 
vorite old  rye  whiskey  in  common  use,  and  this 
gave  greater  volubility  to  his  strong  words. 
Strong  waters  always  beget  words  under  the 
stress  of  excitement. 

"Say,  Stranger,  this  is  tough  luck!  Lost  my 
drink  just  at  the  lip !" 

He  eyed  me  anxiously,  with  the  evident  hope 
that  I  had  something  stimulating  hidden  in  my 
pocket.  Well,  I  had.  It  was  not  whiskey  for  I 
cannot  drink  the  stuff.  I  wonder  that  so  many 
men  like  its  flavour.  But  I  like  wine,  for  my  an- 
cestors all  drank  it  at  meals,  and  I  had  been  ac- 
customed to  its  use,  in  that  way,  from  the  days  of 
my  youth.  I  always  thought  of  wine,  beer,  or 


140  Tenderfoot  Days 

ale  as  a  beverage  to  be  used  as  one  uses  milk,  tea, 
coffee,  or  water  to  quench  thirst  agreeably. 

It  was  not  a  temperance  age  or  locality,  and  a 
strong  drink  was  something  everybody  took,  or 
expected  to  take  on  a  suitable  occasion.  What  I 
had  was  a  flask  of  wine,  some  old  Port,  as  a  cor- 
dial for  the  body  when  overtaxed  or  chilled. 

"Here  is  something  as  good  as  what  you  have 
lost,"  I  handed  my  flask  to  him,  with  a  smile.  He 
eyed  it  and  myself,  and  grinned  in  a  friendly  way. 
Next  he  tilted  it  to  his  dry  mouth,  and  shut  his 
eyes  while  its  contents  gurgled  down  his  long  red 
throat,  his  Adam's  apple  working  vigorously. 
He  was  a  gentleman,  he  knew  when  to  stop.  He 
took  a  good  drink  as  he  knew  I  wished  him  to, 
but  he  left  me  half  the  contents,  wiped  the  flask 
with  his  sleeve,  and  handed  it  back. 

"Good  stuff  if  it  is  wine !  It  hit  the  right  spot 
at  this  pertickeler  time." 

I  saw  that  he  was  a  character,  and  was  a  prom- 
ising find  for  a  good  story,  so  I  set  out  to  inter- 
view him,  like  a  reporter. 

As  to  outfit,  he  was  evidently  down  to  bedrock. 
A  miner  in  luck  is  well,  though  roughly  dressed. 
This  man  had  no  coat,  a  very  dirty  shirt  and  hat; 
while  his  overalls  were  held  up  by  one  lone  sus- 
pender. His  boots,  of  course,  were  well  down 
at  the  heel,  and  almost  open  at  the  toes.  Held  by 


The  Old  Prospector  141 

a  thin  rope  across  his  chest,  his  bundle  of  blankets 
hung  under  his  arm.  They  were  as  well  worn  as 
his  clothes.  He  had  tobacco  and  a  pipe,  for  these 
implements  of  the  solitary  came  into  sight  straight- 
way after  the  drink,  and  he  filled  up  and  asked  for 
a  match.  Soon  the  smoke  was  on,  and  I  saw  that 
he  was  ready  for  a  yarn,  and  so  at  it  I  went. 

"Yes,  I'm  down,  but  I'm  not  out,  pardner! 
You  can  see  that  without  my  saying  it.  I've  been 
down  many  a  time,  but  never  quite  out.  Some  day 
I'll  finish  in  luck  or  out  of  it;  for  this  life  is  a 
strange  deal  to  some  of  us.  Say !  I've  known  the 
day  when  I  wore  good  clothes  like  yours.  I  got 
a  bit  of  an  education  to  start  with,  so  I  knew  some- 
thing about  chemicals  and  assay  work.  Yes !  I'm 
an  old  Californian,  and  just  missed  being  a  forty- 
niner.  I  was  on  the  American  River  back  of  Sac- 
ramento, in  the  early  days,  and  panned  out  a  heap 
of  gold  dirt  in  those  placer  diggin's.  Yes!  I 
struck  it  rich  there,  but  lost  most  of  my  pile  when 
I  visited  Frisco  with  a  bunch  of  the  boys.  But  I 
had  a  good  time,  you  bet! 

"No !  never  thought,  in  those  days,  of  settling 
down,  or  going  into  business.  You  see !  those 
times  were  pretty  free,  and  the  dust  came  easy 
from  the  sands  and  rocks.  We  thought  it  would 
never  let  up,  but  just  go  on  that  way;  so  what  was 
the  use  of  saving  the  dust?  Well!  once  I  did  buy 


142  Tenderfoot  Days 

a  place.  A  poor  fellow  had  made  a  farm  out  of 
some  flat  bottom  land  on  the  Yuba  River  near 
Marysville.  He  wanted  to  go  East  to  see  his 
folks,  as  he  was  on  his  last  legs,  being  a  one- 
lunger.  I  had  coin  then,  and  he  hit  me  in  a  soft 
spot  I  have  at  times.  So  I  bought  him  out.  You 
never  saw  a  feller  so  glad  as  this  poor  guy,  when 
he  had  my  wad. 

"Well !  I  had  a  ranch  on  my  hands,  and  a  mighty 
fine  vineyard  too.  I  had  stock  and  tools;  a  house 
and  barn.  In  fact  the  whole  outfit  was  there. 
The  boys  plagued  me  to  marry  a  widow  who  had 
five  kids  of  her  own.  She  kept  a  feeding  house 
in  Marysville,  and  the  boys  said  it  was  a  duty  I 
owed  society  to  hitch  up  with  her.  Well !  I  didn't 
do  it.  I  wasn't  a  marrying  sort  in  those  days.  I 
might  have  done  it  once  back  where  I  came  from. 
I  ain't  going  to  say  where  that  was.  That's  all 
closed, — final.  But  she  was  cattish,  and  turned 
me  down  in  a  pet.  So  I  felt  very  sore,  and  I  ain't 
got  over  it  yet. 

"My  ranch  was  a  bother  to  me,  for  I  didn't 
know  a  thing  about  farming.  I  like  roving,  and 
this  thing  called  for  settling  down.  What  d'ye 
think  settled  it?  The  Yuba  River! 

"There  came  a  flood  such  as  you  don't  often 
see.  The  whole  Sacramento  Valley  looked  like 
a  lake  for  weeks,  and  my  ranch  was  washed  clean 


The  Old  Prospector  143 

off  the  earth  by  the  time  the  water  went  down. 
You  never  saw  such  rain,  about  like  it  was  when 
Noah  went  into  the  ark.  Of  course  my  ground 
showed  up  after  the  freshit,  but  there  wasn't  a 
thing  on  it,  but  mud  and  rocks,  with  some  stranded 
logs  and  timber.  House,  vineyard,  crops,  stock 
all  gone.  So  I  let  it  slide,  since  the  Yuba  River 
had  changed  its  course,  and  ran  partly  over  my 
land. 

"I  wasn't  pertickler  sorry  for  I  itched  to  get  at 
a  pick  again.  So  the  old  life  went  on.  Flush  one 
year  and  busted  the  next.  Went  with  the  rush 
to  every  new  diggin's,  till  I  got  the  rhumaticks 
bad  and  had  to  quit  for  a  time. 

"Well!  I  set  up  a  sort  of  resort  at  Stockton, 
which  I  bought  with  some  coin  I  had  left.  I  fed 
the  travellers  on  the  road  to  the  mines.  I  liquored 
them  at  a  bar,  and  let  them  gamble  in  my  back 
room.  You  bet  I  was  popular.  This  sort  of 
thing  did  for  a  while,  till  a  town  fire  burned  out 
the  whole  side  of  the  street,  and  my  outfit  went 
up  in  smoke. 

"No  insurance?  Of  course  not.  We  weren't 
that  careful  in  those  days.  Bedrock  again. 
Then  I  joined  a  band  of  rangers  to  run  out  the 
cattle  thieves,  and  greaser  bandits,  which  were 
playing  hob  with  the  valley  folks.  In  one  hot 
scrimmage  I  got  a  ball  in  the  thigh  that  stopped 


144  Tenderfoot  Days 

horse  riding  for  good,  and  brought  back  my  old 
rhumatiks. 

"I  was  in  a  hospital  in  Frisco  for  about  five 
months,  with  one  thing  and  another.  The  Doc 
treated  me  fine,  but  shot  an  awful  lot  of  stuff  into 
my  stummick  in  that  length  of  time. 

"I  came  out  thin  as  a  lath,  but  full  of  go.  I 
went  mining  again,  this  time  in  quartz  rock,  on 
the  Mother  Lode,  at  Sonora  town.  It  was  shaft 
sinking,  and  I  worked  for  pay,  not  for  prospects. 
I  kept  right  poor,  for  it  always  took  the  whole 
of  my  wages  to  live.  D'ye  notice  that's  the  way 
with  a  salary  man,  he  can't  save  a  bean,  for  the 
life  of  him? 

"Think  of  old  age?  No,  never  crossed  my 
mind  once  'til  one  day  in  a  barber  shop  I  saw 
I  was  gettin'  grey  and  bald.  You  see  I  come  of 
a  stock  that  frosts  early  at  top. 

"Then  came  the  Colorado  rush,  and  it  carried 
me  right  off  my  feet  so  to  speak.  A  mining  rush 
always  took  with  me.  I  joined  a  party  of  sur- 
veyors, and  we  put  through  the  desert  for  Denver. 
If  I  was  a  writer  I  could  fill  a  book  with  stuff 
about  that  trip.  I  tell  you  we  saw  some  awful 
things ;  but  to  go  on  with  this  truthful  yarn,  pard- 
ner,  I  prospected  at  Fairplay  and  Cripple  Creek. 
But,  Lord!  it  wasn't  like  the  old  diggin's  on  the 
Feather  and  Yuba  Rivers  above  Marysville.  No? 


The  Old  Prospector  145 

Californey's  the  mining  ground  for  me.  It  took 
just  four  years  to  get  foot-loose,  and  back  to  the 
coast;  as  far  as  this  derned  Mormon  country. 
Say !  I've  just  left  them  Emma  Mine  fellers,  they 
are  sports,  all  right;  but  no  good  at  cheating,  like 
them  Yankee  sharpers  that  sold  them  that  salted 
claim  at  such  a  Bonanza  figure.  Yes!  I'm  on  my 
way  to  Frisco,  but  I'm  to  try  Bingham  on  this  lap. 
Anything  doing  over  there,  pardner?" 

I  have  put  his  story  in,  almost  without  a  break, 
but  I  had  to  question  him,  at  times,  to  keep  him 
going,  in  my  endeavor  to  get  his  life  story. 

He  was  evidently  nearing  the  age  of  sixty,  and 
I  suppose,  this  old  prospector  would  go  on  in  his 
way  of  life,  till  some  day  he  would  go  over  the 
"divide,"  with  about  the  same  possessions  he  had 
when  he  came  into  this  strange  life. 

Looking  at  it  in  a  broad  spirit,  would  he  not  be 
as  well-to-do,  as  the  man  of  millions,  who,  in  dy- 
ing, leaves  his  wealth  behind  for  his  sons  to 
squander,  or  his  relatives  to  fight  over? 

Rolling  stones  gather  no  moss  was  written  on 
his  face,  and  would  be  the  fitting  epitaph  over  his 
worn  body,  when  it  occupied  the  only  piece  of 
ground  that  he  would  own,  when — Life's  fitful 
dream  was  over. 

We  exchanged  a  few  things.  He  gave  me  some 
odd  specimens  out  of  his  pocket,  and  I  gave  him 


146  Tenderfoot  Days 

a  few  supplies  from  my  travelling  bag;  for  I  was 
horseback,  riding  old  Blueskin,  a  veteran  canyon 
horse,  on  my  way  to  Alta  City. 

The  last  I  saw  of  him  was  his  ragged  hat,  bob- 
bing above  some  rocky  points,  as  he  swung  around 
a  bend  in  the  trail,  going  down  hill  to  the  valley 
below,  like  a  thousand  more  men  of  this  strange, 
strident,  virile  breed  of  prospectors.  He  was  a 
fair  type  of  a  set  of  men  without  whom  the  great 
Rocky  West  could  not  have  been  opened  to  set- 
tlement, railroads,  and  commerce. 

It  was  a  long  uphill  ride  to  Alta  City,  with 
frowning  walls  high  on  either  hand.  Turn  after 
turn  was  passed,  till  at  last  we  struck  the  snow 
level,  a  little  short  of  nine  thousand  feet  altitude. 
I  stopped  awhile  at  a  wayside  restaurant,  kept 
by  a  dapper  little  woman  and  her  midget  of  a 
husband.  She  gave  me  a  meal  for  a  dollar, — one 
egg,  two  soda  biscuits,  a  dab  of  butter,  two  "corn 
pancakes  with  a  little  syrup  in  a  dirty  glass,  a  cup 
of  coffee — of  rather  a  washy  kind — for  my  out- 
lay. She  said  "vittles  was  dear  as  freight  was 
high." 

She  was  proud  of  her  husband,  dubbed  him 
uher  man,"  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  think  him 
a  "proper  sort,"  as  he  went  out  the  back  to  hack 
at  some  sticks  for  the  fire.  He  seemed  so  obedient 
that  the  big  black  cigar  in  his  mouth  looked  out 


The  Old  Prospector  147 

of  place.  She  said  that  it  was  his  "only  failing," 
and  that  a  man  ought  to  have  some  bad  habits  to 
make  him  "real  nice." 

Refreshed,  and  my  horse  fed  at  about  the  same 
cost  .as  for  my  own  food,  I  left  the  happy  couple 
of  this  upper  world  life  to  their  restaurant  and 
its  charms.  By  nightfall,  I  reached  the  camp, 
just  as  the  lights  began  to  sparkle  in  the  windows 
of  the  buildings  along  the  one  main  street. 

I  had  a  letter  to  an  ex-Mormon  elder.  He  was 
in  business,  carrying  everything  in  his  store  that 
could  be  wanted  in  such  a  place.  He  slept  in  a 
little  recess  at  the  rear  of  the  store ;  where  he  had 
an  equally  small  kitchen.  I  know  that  we  two 
barely  found  room  to  sit  down  at  a  table,  hinged 
to  the  wall.  He  was  hospitable  and  said  I  could 
sleep  on  a  shelf  about  three  feet  wide,  under  some 
blankets.  He  started  supper,  first  wiping  out  his 
frying  pan  with  some  old  copies  of  the  Salt  Lake 
Tribune.  He  said  that  it  was  sanitary,  and  beat 
a  dish  cloth,  since  you  could  use  the  paper  after- 
ward to  start  a  fire.  He  pounded  some  tough 
meat  tender,  he  slushed  his  knives  and  forks  in 
some  hot  but  greasy  water,  and  laid  them  wet  by 
equally  wet  plates  which  had  been  washed  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  knives  and  forks.  He  put 
on  a  whole  roll  of  butter  and  a  lot  of  sad  looking 
soda  biscuits.  Meanwhile  the  meat  frizzled  and 


148  Tenderfoot  Days 

some  potatoes  boiled.  We  had  coffee  out  of  a 
big  black  can,  that  had  stood  heat  and  smoke  of 
many  fires,  but  as  it  was  strong  and  hot,  it  went 
down.  He  had  some  condensed  milk,  then  a  new 
thing,  and  of  which  he  was  very  proud.  Brown 
sugar  did  the  sweetening.  Being  polite,  I  ate  as 
he  did,  and  made  no  comments.  Still  I  enjoyed 
this  evening  meal  more  than  I  did  the  mid-day 
dinner  at  the  restaurant  on  Main  street  the  next 
day;  for  I  unfortunately  passed  through  the  kit- 
chen at  the  wrong  moment,  wishing  to  dry  a  couple 
of  handkerchiefs  at  the  big  stove.  Looking 
around  I  was  in  time  to  see  the  Chinese  cook  in 
the  pantry  making  biscuits,  and  spraying  the  nicely 
assorted  nascent  bread  with  his  mouth  in  Chinese 
laundry  style. 

That  let  me  out.  I  never  touched  biscuit-bread 
again  in  that  camp,  or  in  any  other.  I  had  either 
pancakes  or  loaf  bread.  Still  John  did  this  in  a 
most  innocent,  matter-of-fact  manner  that  made 
me  certain  that  it  was  the  procedure  in  the  prep- 
aration of  biscuit,  by  all  such  oriental  cooks. 

My  host  of  the  evening  was  a  bright  and  clever 
man.  He  had  a  fine  mind,  and  so  as  we  got  onto 
the  subject  of  the  Mormons  and  his  departure 
from  them,  we  had  a  good  talk  on  philosophy. 
He  was  an  advocate  of  the  old  idea  of  holding 
your  life  views  of  religion,  or  aught  else  that 


The  Old  Prospector  149 

was  metaphysical,  in  an  exoteric  manner  to  suit 
the  multitude,  and  an  esoteric  manner  to  suit  your- 
self. That  meant  if  it  were  popular  and  profit- 
able, go  with  the  majority  externally,  but  mentally 
hold  your  own  view  internally  and  subjectively. 
In  fact,  be  a  hypocrite  if  necessary,  but  do  not 
give  yourself  away,  if  you  change  your  opinion. 

"Well  if  this  is  right?"  I  said,  "why  did  you 
leave  the  Mormons?" 

"Well,  I  joined  them  because  I  had  to;  it  was 
policy  and  it  was  safe.  You  understand  that  I 
left  because  I  could  leave  them  safe,  since  Uncle 
Sam  was  here,  and  I  did  not  like  their  views." 

"Oh !  You  left  them  because  of  polygamy,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"No.  I  could  be  a  polygamist,  if  it  paid  to  go 
into  that  condition ;  but  not  if  I  had  to  face  poverty 
and  feed  a  lot  of  mouths.  It's  not  a  moral  ques- 
tion with  me  at  all.  Some  are  born  to  be  polyga- 
mous, and  it  is  safer  for  them  and  their  morals 
to  have  several  wives.  No !  I  saw  more  money  in 
these  mines,  and  no  way  of  making  it  if  I  stayed 
under  the  great  Co-op.  I  am  running  a  Co-op 
of  my  own  right  here." 

"Well!  when  you  get  rich,  what  then?" 

"The  world  is  wide,  and  I  will  find  a  nicer  nest 
than  rough  camps  and  these  loud-mouthed  miners. 
There  are  Art  and  Literary  centers  in  Europe 


150  Tenderfoot  Days 

where  one  could  live,  if  one  had  money." 

This  educated  freethinker  had  some  willowy 
principles  as  the  outcome  of  his  hankey-pankey 
playing  with  this  "exoteric"  and  "esoteric"  phi- 
losophy applied  to  common  every-day  life. 

Coming  down  from  this  mining  aerie  is  no 
tax  on  heart,  but  it  is  upon  the  heels.  I  left  my 
old  horse,  Blueskin  for  his  owner  to  bring  down 
later,  and  took  the  trail  afoot,  since  I  had  to  con- 
nect with  the  narrow-gauge  railroad  at  the  depot 
eight  miles  below.  At  first  over  the  snow  it  was 
easy  going.  Although  it  was  June  there  was  snow 
at  this  altitude,  but  as  soon  as  I  passed  below  the 
snow  line,  I  struck  the  ties  of  the  tram-cars. 
Mules  took  the  place  of  the  locomotive,  as  the 
grade  was  five  hundred  feet  to  the  mile,  too  steep 
for  steam.  The  mule  cars  had  gone  already  and 
I  soon  got  into  trouble  with  my  heels.  I  had  to 
hurry,  and  so  it  was  pound-pound  steadily  down 
grade,  my  heels  hitting  the  ties  at  every  step.  I 
forgot  the  consequences  of  such  foot-work.  Eight 
miles  of  this  at  top-speed  and  I  made  the  train.  I 
also  made  some  "tender-feet"  too.  The  next  day 
I  was  on  my  back,  due  to  contracted  lumbar  mus- 
cles, from  this  severe  jarring  of  the  heels  upon 
the  ties.  The  boys  in  camp  laughingly  called  it  a 
tenderloin  spine.  It  was  three  days  before  I 
could  walk  erect 


The  Old  Prospector  151 

While  in  Alta  City  I  heard  of  a  miner's  easy 
death.  He  was  a  veteran,  and  was  ascending  to 
his  work  at  one  of  the  highest  mines  in  the  range. 
The  trail  was  long  and  winding,  and  the  air  was 
thin  at  that  great  height.  Out  of  breath,  he  sat 
to  rest  on  a  jutting  rock,  a  short  distance  below  the 
mine  tunnel.  From  weariness  he  sighed,  and  as 
he  did  so  he  expired.  His  breath  came  out,  but 
none  returned. 

"His  heart  but  once  heaved,  and  forever  grew 
still." 

This  camp  has  suffered  from  snowslides.  A 
wholesale  tragedy  of  this  kind  occurred  the  winter 
before  my  arrival.  The  food  and  ammunition  for 
the  mines,  in  the  winter  go  up  the  trail  on  pack 
mules  or  freight  sleds.  This  is  slow  climbing.  It 
is  along  a  trail  constantly  covered  by  heavy  snows, 
and  swept  by  avalanches  from  higher  points.  The 
trail  is  too  narrow  to  allow  a  team  to  turn  round, 
and  there  are  only  occasional  places  where  the 
width  permits  teams  to  pass  each  other.  There 
is  no  chance  to  increase  speed  beyond  an  unsteady 
plod.  In  March  a  surface  thaw  had  occurred,  due 
to  a  wandering  Chinook  wind  from  Oregon.  A 
heavy  frost  had  followed.  Then  on  this  slip- 
pery surface  a  heavy  coat  of  snow  had  fallen 
when  Old  Winter  had  shouted  "I've  not  done  with 
that  camp  yet."  A  heavy  deposit  resting  on 


152  Tenderfoot  Days 

such  a  slippery  surface  needed  only  a  jar  to  start 
a  slide.  It  was  this  oft  recurring  condition  that 
gave  to  the  gulch,  where  this  tragedy  happened, 
the  name  of  "Dead  Man's  Gulch."  Nineteen 
freight  sleds,  with  as  many  men  and  teams,  were 
slowly  passing  the  mouth  of  this  gulch.  The  lead- 
ing teamster  was  watching  the  crest  of  the  gulch, 
and  saw  the  first  signs  of  a  slide,  uthe  snow- 
smoke."  Instantly  he  yelled,  "A  slide!  A  slide! 
Whip  up,  Boys!"  Whips  cracked  and  mules 
struggled  forward,  the  drivers  looking  up,  with  no 
more  time  than  for  a  look.  With  an  increasing 
roar,  the  whole  slope  seemed  to  start  to  life,  and 
swept  downward.  Snow,  rocks,  trees,  mixed  in 
wildest  tumult,  formed  an  awful  front  which  swept 
on,  and  over  the  trail.  A  moment  later  nothing 
was  left  of  the  long  line  of  freighters  but  the 
leading  team.  The  driver  was  the  only  living 
one  to  see  this  slide  pile  up  in  the  bottom  of  the 
canyon,  the  avalanche  missing  him  by  a  few  yards. 
With  his  heart  in  his  mouth,  he  pushed  on,  to  Alta 
City,  to  report  the  loss  of  all  the  others.  Buried 
a  hundred  feet  deep  they  were  hidden  until  the 
July  sun,  melting  the  snow,  exposed  the  wreck  of 
men,  animals,  and  goods. 

Another  danger  beset  the  traveller  in  this  can- 
yon. Near  the  entrance,  and  where  the  junction 
of  the  locomotive  railroad  and  the  mule  tram-cars 


The  Old  Prospector  153 

occurred,  was  a  mass  of  giant  granite  blocks  fal- 
len from  the  towering  cliffs.  Some  were  as  big 
as  a  house,  others  sharp-pointed  like  a  tooth,  while 
more  looked  like  huge  pieces  of  cube  sugar,  so 
square  were  they.  These  being  accessible  to  the 
railroad,  they  were  being  worked  up  by  the  ma- 
sons for  the  walls  of  the  Mormon  Temple  in  Salt 
Lake  City.  Asleep  on  these  blocks  and  about  the 
crevasses  were  hosts  of  great  rattle  snakes,  so  nu- 
merous that  in  the  heat  of  summer  you  could  de- 
tect their  peculiar  odor  as  you  passed  by.  A  no- 
tice, with  the  legend  "Be  careful,"  was  erected 
here  for  the  safety  of  all  travellers.  A  good  deal 
of  revolver  practice  took  place  here;  the  miners' 
enjoying  the  sport  of  shooting  off  the  heads  of 
these  reptiles  as  they  lay  sunning  themselves  on  the 
rocks.  I  have  seen  the  stage  driver,  with  his  skill- 
ful whip,  almost  cut  off  the  heads  of  some  rattlers 
near-by  as  we  passed  up  the  grade. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    LIVELY    MINING    CAMP 

"Thus  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land, 
Have  we  marched  without  impediment." 

Shakespeare 

IF  Alta  City,  as  its  name  suggests,  is  a  lofty 
camp,  Bingham  City,  in  the  opposite  range  of 
the  Oquirreh  Mountains,  was  a  lively  camp. 

I  had  often  wished  to  see  a  typical  mining  camp, 
to  decide  if  the  customary  "gunfire"  stories  were 
true,  or  exaggerated.  Well!  I  found  them  about 
true,  as  I  will  now  relate. 

This  shanty  city  was  along  a  narrow  canyon, 
which  began  in  the  low  foothills,  covered  with 
sagebrush,  and  then  extended  upward  with  a  sinu- 
ous course  to  what  was  known  as  Upper  Bingham 
where  in  winter  the  snow  lies  deep  and  slides  are 
common. 

This  is  rather  a  treeless  range,  and  there  is  little 
that  is  picturesque  in  this  canyon  town  by  way  of 
view.  What  it  lacked  in  nature,  it  made  up  in 

154 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  155 

human  nature.  All  sorts  of  people  were  there. 
To  use  the  common  phrase,  "We  are  all  here, 
Jews,  Gentiles,  and  Mormons."  The  business  was 
almost  entirely  Hebraic,  the  mining  almost  to  a 
man,  Gentile,  but  not  by  any  means  gentle,  and 
the  teaming  and  toiling  by  "Jack"  Mormons, 
meaning  thereby  such  Mormons  as  had  left  their 
piety  in  the  valley,  and  were  up  in  these  hills,  like 
the  rest  of  the  human  tide,  "For  what  there  was  in 
it."  All  these  people  meant  to  make  money,  and 
then  go  home — "To  behave  and  be  respectable." 

This  canyon  was  well  occupied  by  this  indus- 
trious town.  Against  the  rocky  sides  the  houses 
pressed  their  backs,  while  their  fronts,  of  most 
varied  designs  of  ugliness,  looked  boldly  on  "The 
Street."  This  street  was  a  narrow  affair,  without 
pretense  of  road  work,  and  was  simply  a  wagon 
trail  up  which  loads  of  supplies  and  men  were 
carried.  People  thronged  it  because  there  was 
no  other  place  to  walk.  A  sidewalk  was  an  un- 
thought-of  thing.  Little  suggestions  of  such  a 
possibility  were  seen  in  several  platforms,  built 
before  the  larger  edifices,  such  as  the  saloons  and 
the  hotels.  These  were  nice  things  to  land  on, 
in  stepping  from  the  stage  on  a  muddy  day,  and 
in  good  weather  excellent  places  for  pedestrians 
to  clean  their  huge  boots,  or  take  a  "free  rest." 

When  the  weather  was  good  and  warm,  these 


156  Tenderfoot  Days 

suggestions  of  coming  sidewalks  were  occupied  by 
the  idle  and  the  tired  to  make  swaps,  tell  stories, 
take  siestas,  originate  rows  and  quarrels,  and  any- 
thing else  to  make  life  interesting  in  the  camp. 

The  street  was  a  sight  at  all  times  for  a  street 
sweeper.  The  litter  was  terrific,  for  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  housekeepers  to  sweep  the  surplus 
contents  of  their  houses,  with  a  dash  of  the  broom, 
into  the  street,  and  then  to  bang  their  doors  with 
an  air  of  having  got  rid  of  a  lot,  and  having  done 
a  good  day's  work. 

In  this  town  there  was  no  garbage  brigade,  with 
shovels  and  brooms,  to  deposit  this  litter  care- 
fully in  those  bins  labelled  "For  clean  streets." 

The  grand  climax  to  this  was  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, after  the  strenuous  work  of  Sunday  was  over, 
the  Camp's  rest  day  but  not  religious  day.  Packs 
of  cards,  used  and  cast  away  by  those  in  bad  luck, 
were  swept  out  by  the  barkeep,  and  the  roadway 
looked  like  an  outdoor  gambler's  paradise. 

The  "hells"  were  all  indoors,  and  you  had  to  go 
within  to  see  them,  and  to  smell  them.  I  do  not 
deny  that  the  odors  of  these  places  came  out,  but 
the  sniff  you  got  when  mixed  with  oxygen  and  the 
ozone  of  the  Bingham  hills,  was  nothing  in  its 
strength,  to  the  full  blast  of  the  interiors. 

The  rest  of  this  canyon  was  taken  up  by  the 
river  or  "Crik,"  that  was  always  trying  to  pass 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  157 

down  and  squeeze  its  way,  with  considerable  noise, 
over  boulders,  through  riffles  and  sluices  set  in  its 
way  by  the  industrious  placer  miner,  and  get  out 
into  the  open  to  find  its  peace  in  the  bosom  of  the 
river  Jordan.  I  need  not  name  the  other  occu- 
pants of  this  narrow  vent  in  these  hills,  since  they 
were  only  tarantulas,  rattle  snakes,  and  mammoth 
spiders. 

I  came  into  the  camp  with  a  rush,  for  I  was  a 
passenger  on  the  four-horse  stage.  I  had  missed 
the  train,  and  took  the  chance  to  make  the  camp 
that  night  by  going  through  on  Rory  McDonald's 
stage.  He  was  a  Scotch  tough.  I  suppose  that  he 
had  been  a  good  little  boy  in  his  early  days,  and 
his  "Scotch  Mither"  had  made  him  toe  the  crack 
to  recite  the  shorter  catechism.  That  may  be,  but 
he  had  left  it  far  behind  and  like  many  a  boy 
brought  up  to  be  "varra  gude,"  he  had  swung  to 
the  opposite  extreme.  Going  west,  and  doing  as 
the  West  did  in  the  'yo's,  Rory  McDonald  be- 
came a  tough,  and  carried  a  gun.  He  also  car- 
ried a  charming  brogue  with  a  big  Scotch  "burr" 
on  his  tongue's  end,  a  tantalizing  smile,  an  ogling 
eye  that  disturbed  the  girls,  and  a  most  ingratiat- 
ing manner,  which  made  him  many  friends,  and 
popular  with  the  travelling  public. 

There  were  several  bloody  affairs,  gunfights  and 
homicides  while  I  was  there;  but  Rory  McDon- 


158  Tenderfoot  Days 

aid  was  the  man  who  was  responsible  for  the 
worst  of  these  affairs.  His  glib  tongue,  and  in- 
different morals  beguiled  to  his  side  as  compan- 
ion the  wife  of  a  lame  shoemaker.  The  husband 
was  industrious  in  his  way,  but  not  a  lucky  man. 
He  did  not  climb,  but  remained  financially  below 
par  and  his  wife  got  tired  of  economy  and  poverty. 

Rory  McDonald  was  lavish  with  his  money. 
His  stage  line  was  paying,  and  he  spent  his  prof- 
its freely  on  this  woman.  Taylor,  the  shoemaker, 
was  chaffed  coarsely  by  the  men  of  the  town,  about 
his  wife.  He  was  a  pale-faced  fellow,  but  his 
courage  was  not  lacking.  Since  he  could  not  man- 
age his  side-stepping  wife,  he  walked  up  to  Mc- 
Donald, and  told  him  to  "git  heeled/'  as  the  next 
time  they  met  he  would  begin  shooting.  He 
nearly  began  then,  but  since  the  sheriff  was  within 
sight,  several  mutual  friends  parted  the  angry 
pair.  Everybody  looked  for  trouble;  but  several 
days  slipped  by.  Men  began  to  twit  Taylor  for 
his  easy  sufferance  of  this  blot  on  his  honor.  Then 
it  happened  like  a  thunder  clap. 

Miss  Minor,  a  young  woman  the  niece  of  the 
only  resident  physician,  was  standing  on  the  porch 
of  her  uncle's  office,  looking  for  the  mail.  As  she 
glanced  down  the  street  she  saw  a  man  coming  up 
on  the  opposite  side,  with  a  creeping,  bending  step, 
and  trailing  a  shot-gun.  She  recognized  the  red 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  159 

face  of  Rory  McDonald.  It  all  happened  in  a 
flash.  A  shout,  as  McDonald  stopped  in  front  of 
the  shoemaker's  door,  which  was  wide  open.  It 
was  a  long  narrow  room,  with  the  work  bench, 
and  seat  at  the  far  end.  There  tapping  heels, 
Taylor  was  bending  over  his  work.  Following 
the  shout  "look  out"  from  McDonald,  came  the 
crash  of  his  shot  gun,  as  it  poured  a  charge  into 
the  fated  man.  As  an  echo  came  the  revolver  shot 
that  struck  McDonald's  thigh  high  up.  The  sec- 
ond barrel  followed,  and  Taylor  fell  riddled,  yet 
in  falling  fired  a  second  time.  The  bullet  flew 
high,  through  the  open  door,  and  across  the  street. 
It  struck  the  post  of  the  porch,  against  which  Miss 
Minor's  hand  rested.  Slivers  of  wood  fell  on  her 
head,  and  the  bullet  buried  itself  in  the  building. 

I  was  up  a  gulch  opening  on  the  main  street, 
when  I  heard  these  reports.  They  sounded  like 
the  falling  of  a  lot  of  lumber  from  a  wagon.  Un- 
til I  saw  men  running  I  did  not  think  the  noise 
was  gunfire.  When  I  reached  the  spot  the  crowd 
held  McDonald,  who  was  white  of  face  and  bleed- 
ing fast.  Others  were  in  the  shop,  viewing  the 
riddled  yet  breathing  body  of  Taylor.  He  died 
as  they  lifted  him  up. 

Some  were  for  lynching  McDonald  right  away, 
saying  it  was  cowardly  murder,  to  shoot  a  man 
down  in  his  store  with  no  more  warning  than  a 


160  Tenderfoot  Days 

shout.  Others  swept  McDonald  off  to  the  local 
jail,  and  had  him  out  of  sight  in  a  few  minutes. 
A  divided  camp  discussed  the  horror,  and  it  soon 
appeared  that  Taylor's  friends  were  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  carry  out  their  threat  of  a  lynching 
bee.  The  sheriff  was  persuaded  to  avoid  a  fight 
by  taking  McDonald  to  Salt  Lake  City  for  safe- 
keeping. During  the  early  hours  of  the  night,  he 
was  smuggled  into  a  wagon,  under  some  baled  hay, 
and  passed  out  of  the  camp  without  notice.  When 
the  posse  came  to  the  jail  later,  the  sheriff  let 
them  look  into  all  the  cells,  and  then  told  them 
they  would  have  to  go  to  Salt  Lake  City  for 
their  man. 

This  was  one  of  many  coarse  blood-horrors 
common  to  these  camps.  Some  months  later  Mc- 
Donald's money  and  friends  carried  him  safely 
through  a  trial  in  court,  and  he  came  out  free, 
due  to  the  jury's  sentence,  "done  in  self  defense." 
Taylor's  threat  uheel  yourself,"  was  deemed  the 
legal  reason  for  the  sentence. 

McDonald  met  me  in  the  canyon  near  the  de- 
pot, and  came  up  with  his  usual  ingratiating  smile, 
with  extended  hand.  "I  can't  take  your  hand,"  I 
said,  T'I  think  you  did  a  cowardly  thing.  You 
killed  a  man  in  an  unfair  fight." 

uBut  he  would  have  shot  me,  in  the  same  way, 
if  he  could." 


DEAD   MAN  S   FALLS,   LITTLE    COTTONWOOD 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  161 

"Maybe,  but  he  did  not.  If  you  had  been  the 
man  we  thought  you  were,  you  would  have  called 
him  out,  into  the  open,  on  even  terms." 

McDonald  looked  his  surprise,  then  scowled  a 
moment,  and  turned  on  his  heel  with  a  growl. 

He  was  always  morose  after  that.  It  is  often 
so.  A  man  who  is  a  killer  soon  loses  his  kindliness 
of  temperament. 

Most  of  the  camp  ores  went  out  by  the  narrow- 
gauge  railroad.  They  went  to  the  smelters  at 
Sandy,  at  the  junction  of  the  broad-gauge  rail- 
road, from  whence,  in  the  form  of  lead,  silver, 
and  gold  ingots,  they  were  transported  to  the 
East.  The  passengers  for  the  Camp  came  in  on 
the  mixed  train.  Returning  the  engine  remained 
to  bring  out  the  loaded  ore  cars,  but  the  baggage 
and  passenger  cars  made  the  trip  by  gravity,  under 
brake  control;  for  the  grade  was  sharp  most  of 
the  way  to  the  valley.  I  remember  a  wild  ride, 
by  this  gravity  method,  with  a  party  of  young 
men  of  the  assay  and  mining  offices.  We  occu- 
pied a  number  of  seats  together,  and  were  in  a 
merry  mood,  since  it  was  a  vacation  party. 

In  a  neighboring  seat  was  a  middle-aged  aggres- 
sive Agnostic.  At  least  he  was  loud  in  his  pro- 
fession of  the  philosophy  of  "Know-Nothing"  as 
to  religion,  although  he  was  at  the  same  time  a 
Spiritualist  as  to  his  superstition.  I  never  knew  a 


1 62  Tenderfoot  Days 

man  of  that  stamp,  who  did  not  take  up  something 
more  credulous  than  the  religion  he  rejected. 
Moreover  he  was  roughly  Anti-Church  and  Anti- 
Christ,  and  thus  popular  with  a  certain  crowd  in 
the  Camp.  Now,  none  of  us  were  of  his  way  of 
thinking.  Most  of  the  young  men  were  not  spe- 
cially religious,  although  all  of  them  had  a  little 
of  it  somewhere  in  their  make-up.  I  was  openly 
and  avowedly  religious,  and  tried  my  best  to  ad- 
vance morality  and  sane  religion  in  the  Camp.  I 
had  some  influence  too,  and  made  public  addresses 
on  Sunday,  and  conducted,  the  only  day-school  in 
the  Camp,  on  week-days.  Mr.  Agnostic  sneered 
at  me,  therefore,  as  an  Eastern  "Goody-Goody," 
and  took  great  delight,  every  Monday  night,  in 
the  Social  Hall  in  ridiculing  my  addresses  of  Sun- 
day. 

Well;  on  this  train  he  went  for  me  about  the 
"fables"  of  the  Bible.  Especially  he  haw-hawed 
over  the  Jonah  incident,  getting  off  the  ancient 
joke  that  "it  was  an  awful  fishy  story,  so  fishy  that 
it  smelled  disgustingly  of  falsehood."  I  let  him 
go  on  for  a  time  to  see  the  kind  of  ammunition  he 
had  to  use  against  me,  and  a  crowd  gathered 
around  to  listen,  grin,  and  make  "eye-brows"  at 
me.  I  was  just  beginning  a  reply  to  some  of  his 
"points,"  as  he  termed  them,  when  the  car,  which 
had  been  slipping  along  very  fast,  gave  a  vicious 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  163 

jolt  which  sat  us  sharply  down  in  our  car-seats. 

Then  the  front  door  banged  open,  and  the 
brakeman  looked  in.  Above  the  roar  of  the  car 
we  heard  his  voice.  "Hold  tight  all.  We're  on 
the  run.  Brake's  broke  1" 

We  were  just  out  of  the  canyon  proper,  with  its 
many  sharp  curves,  and  were  on  the  long  straight 
track  for  Sandy  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  This 
was  fortunate,  for  the  road  was  better  ballasted 
than  in  the  canyon.  We  fairly  leaped  along,  the 
heavy  baggage  car  behind  the  coach  acting  as  an 
accelerator.  Mr.  Agnostic  was  silent  and  sat  still. 
Soon  signs  of  scare  appeared,  his  red  face  visibly 
whitened  and  he  tapped  his  fingers  nervously  on 
the  seat.  All  of  us  were  much  stirred  and  took  no 
notice  of  him.  We  held  our  breath  as  the  little 
train  swept,  like  a  flash,  past  the  telegraph-posts. 
Some  women  aboard  uttered  suppressed  shrieks, 
bravely  struggling  with  their  oozing  courage.  We 
expected  a  smash.  I  was  anxious,  but  I  had  a  mind 
to  note  how  differently  the  young  men  faced  this 
unexpected  peril.  Some  had  their  heads  high,  and 
nostrils  wide,  like  a  racer  ready  for  the  jump. 
Others  cringed  in  their  seats  and  stared  unseeingly 
out  of  the  window.  A  few  fellows  laughed.  One 
man  swore.  I  did  not  hear  a  single  outcry  from 
any  man.  It  showed  what  a  self-contained  set  the 
Westerners  are.  In  Eastern  waters,  when  con- 


164  Tenderfoot  Days 

fronted  with  the  probability  of  speedy  death,  I 
had  been  among  men  of  a  more  emotional  sort. 
I  recalled  a  six-day  gale  in  mid  Atlantic,  on  a 
liner,  so  poorly  ballasted,  and  so  narrow  of  beam 
that  she  rolled  to  the  extreme  limit  of  gravity. 
Occurring  every  few  minutes,  these  desperate  ship 
swings  broke  everything  that  could  come  loose. 
These  violent  rolls  broke  the  nerve  of  both  pas- 
sengers and  crew,  so  that  I  heard  the  fool,  the 
infidel,  and  the  coarse  liver,  alike  pray,  spurred 
thereto  by  fear.  But  after  the  storm  was  over, 
and  their  fright  passed,  these  men  were  the  same 
as  before.  "The  dog  returned  to  its  vomit  again, 
and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wallowing  in 
the  mire." 

The  other  occasion  was  on  the  Canadian  Lakes. 
It  was  on  a  sort  of  "penny-whistle"  steamer,  her 
engine  and  boiler  were  so  small.  She  had  an  am- 
bitious load  of  cordwood  aboard,  and  was  top 
heavy.  Crossing  Georgian  Bay  from  Parry  Sound 
we  faced  a  furious  storm.  For  five  hours  we  just 
barely  kept  our  stem  to  the  choppy  sea,  and  had 
the  tiller  ropes  broke,  or  the  helmsman  lost  his 
nerve  and  hold,  the  little  craft  would  have 
broached-to,  and  gone  down  with  all  hands.  Dur- 
ing these  wild  hours,  humanity  was  the  same,  on 
this  little  boat  of  a  freshwater  lake,  as  it  was  on 
the  big  Atlantic  liner. 


A  Lively  Mining  Camp  165 

So,  here,  on  this  runaway  train,  it  proved  the 
stamina  of  both  women  and  men,  the  women  show- 
ing almost  equal  coolness  with  the  men.  Suddenly 
we  rushed  and  rocked  past  buildings  which  bor- 
dered the  Jordan  River.  Next  we  roared  across 
the  bridge,  and  toward  the  rising  grade  leading 
to  the  smelters  at  Sandy.  We  were  safe  from  a 
smash.  The  upgrade  acted  as  a  brake,  and  the 
cars  soon  slowed  down  sufficiently  for  many  to 
drop  off  the  platform,  one  after  another,  like  ripe 
pears  from  a  shaken  tree.  The  yardsmen  slipped 
a  few  spare  ties  behind  the  wheels,  and  the  train 
was  at  rest  after  a  wild  ride.  It  left  us  sobered. 
Mr.  Agnostic  came  out  limp  and  tame,  with  his 
aggression  all  gone  for  the  time.  He  met  some 
cold,  sarcastic  grins  from  the  fellows  who  had 
noted  his  complete  scare. 

"Say!  Old  Man,  you  looked  as  though  you 
really  did  believe  in  a  Hell!" 

This  was  the  salutation  he  got  from  a  passing 
miner,  but  he  received  no  response  from  Mr. 
Agnostic.  He  had  lost  his  sand.  We  reached 
Sandy  Junction,  to  gather  about  a  poor  fellow  who 
was  brought  down  from  Alta  City  "leaded." 
Long  labor  in  lead  ores  brings  on  a  painful  disease. 
The  blood  is  devitalized,  the  flesh  takes  on  the 
hue  of  death,  and  the  pain  is  both  neuralgic  and 
rheumatic.  No  one  can  say  that  the  miner  is 


1 66  Tenderfoot  Days 

paid  too  much  for  his  labor  and  risks. 

It  was  in  Sandy  that  I  met  with  some  old-time 
courtesy  from  a  modern  young  man.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Terhune  would  not  now  be  considered  mod- 
ern, but  he  was  then  very  much  up  to  the  times  in 
his  knowledge  of  minerals,  and  the  roasting  and 
smelting  of  ores.  The  immense  smelters  at  Sandy, 
whose  pungent  smoke  was  wafted  south,  so  you 
could  sniff  the  odor  twenty  miles  distant,  were 
under  his  charge.  Both  capital  and  skill  were  in- 
vested in  the  giant  plant.  Mr.  Terhune  showed 
me  the  process,  and  the  products,  and  the  great 
stacks  of  silver-lead  bars  corded  up  in  the  open 
shed. 

uDo  you  not  fear  robbery  where  so  much  bul- 
lion lies  about?" 

"Just  lift  one  of  those  bars  and  you  will  see  if 
a  thief  takes  anything  without  noise.  We  have 
our  watchman." 

An  effort  was  needed  on  my  part  to  move  a  bar, 
and  I  saw  how  safe  weight  made  wealth.  These, 
with  other  plants,  helped  to  make  silver  another 
cheap  commodity,  and  give  rise  to  the  Silver  Ques- 
tion of  a  later  day.  Mr.  Terhune  was  a  product 
of  the  old  Dutch  stock  of  Knickerbocker  days, 
and  the  amiable  brother  of  a  most  gifted  sister 
whose  name,  as  a  writer,  is  well  known  far  and 
wide  in  the  United  States. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  TOWN  AND  CANYON  OF  AMERICAN  FORK 

"So  green,  so  full  of  goodly  prospect  and 
melodious  sounds  on  every  side,  that  the  harp  of 
Orpheus  was  not  more  charming." 

Milton 

THE  town  of  American  Fork  is  a  picturesque 
little  place.  It  is  situated  beyond  the  point 
of  the  mountain  divide  that  looks  toward  Lake 
Utah.  It  fronts  this  lake,  whose  sheen  in  the 
sunlight  resembles  "Blue  Galilee,"  and  is  an 
American  Bethsaida.  The  spurs  of  the  Canyon 
are  near  and  looking  eastward  the  lofty  knife-like 
ridge  of  Mt.  Aspinwall  is  visible  for  nearly 
twenty  miles. 

I  met  some  strangely  interesting  people  in  this 
little  town.  I  remained  here  some  time  to  estab- 
lish a  liberal  school,  and  another  in  the  adjoining 
town  of  Battle  Creek.  This  latter  place  got  its 
name  from  a  fight  with  the  Utes  in  very  early 
days.  I  rode  into  American  Fork  in  the  rain  of 
a  long-continued  storm.  My  ride  was  made  in  a 

167 


1 68  Tenderfoot  Days 

heavy-wheeled  farm  wagon  and  under  a  flapping 
low-hung  canvas  cover.  This  afforded  shelter 
from  the  driving  rain,  but  was  a  constant  weight 
on  one's  head  and  shoulders,  since  the  bows  were 
so  weak  and  few  that  the  cover  sagged  under  the 
weight  of  the  rain  and  the  pressure  of  the  wind. 
On  our  way  we  stopped  for  refreshment  at  a 
store-hotel.  I  hyphenate  the  word  for  it  was  a 
combination  of  the  two.  Some  visible  groceries 
and  a  strong  odor  of  invisible  cheese  and  kerosene 
indicated  the  first  business.  A  round  stove  with 
round  backed  chairs  about  it,  a  huge  spittoon,  a 
desk,  a  counter  with  a  bar  and  bottles,  suggested 
the  latter  occupation.  Also  there  was  a  rear  room, 
on  the  door  of  which  was  written  in  letters  of 
local  talent,  this  legend,  "DININ'  RUME."  So 
we  had  hope  of  something  to  eat  in  there. 

It  was  here  I  acted  as  a  member  of  a  volunteer 
fire  department.  I  sat  drying  my  garments  at  the 
expectoration-anointed  stove,  listening  to  the 
sounds  of  frying  meat  in  the  rear  room.  Sud- 
denly something  soft,  light  and  warm  fell  on  my 
arm.  I  saw  it  was  a  flake  of  burning  soot.  An 
upward  glance,  through  the  stove-pipe  hole,  re- 
vealed a  light,  and  in  an  instant  more  a  blaze. 
The  stove-pipe  had  parted  with  the  heat  expan- 
sion, and  the  under  side  of  the  shingle  roof  was 
on  fire.  "FIRE!"  I  yelled,  and  sprang  on  a  chair 


The  Town  and  Canyon  of  American  Fork      169 

to  get  at  the  opening.    The  others  yelled  too,  and 
the  host  came  running  in. 

The  building  was  one  of  those  cheap  shells  of 
unpainted  rough  lumber,  which  enterprising  fron- 
tier men  liked  to  build  in  those  days.  So  utterly 
ugly  that  it  was  a  boon  to  burn  them  down.  It 
meant  sharp  work,  if  we  were  not  to  lose  our 
supper,  and  our  host  his  "Hotel."  Sharp  was 
the  word.  The  boss  was  up  a  ladder  and  on  the 
roof  with  a  few  movements  of  his  long  legs.  Off 
came  the  burning  shingles.  Others  of  us  tore 
apart  the  ceiling  boards  above  the  stove,  and  threw 
up  water  from  kitchen  buckets,  pans  and  kettles. 
Five  minutes  later  there  was  an  awful  mess  around 
the  stove,  a  big  hole  in  the  roof,  a  rustling,  ex- 
cited crowd  moving  around,  but  the  fire  was  out. 
The  host  felt  generous  toward  the  helping  com- 
pany, and  gave  us  a  free  supper  of  fried  ham, 
eggs  and  potatoes,  with  the  usual  "hotel"  coffee. 

We  arrived  in  the  town  of  American  Fork 
about  dark.  We  passed  a  two-story  adobe  house 
with  dormer  windows  in  the  roof  to  lighten  and 
enlarge  the  upper  story. 

"Who  owns  that  fine  large  house?"  I  asked. 
It  was  so  unlike  the  usual  adobe  house  in  these 
Mormon  settlements,  that  I  was  curious,  and  put 
this  question  to  the  teamster. 

"Oh!      That    belongs    to    one    of    Brigham's 


170  Tenderfoot  Days 

relicts." 

"What?" 

"Well,  one  of  his  widows,  'grass  widows'  I 
mean.  Mrs.  Allen's  her  name;  ought  to  have 
been  Mrs.  Young,  you  know." 

uWhyI  I  thought  Brigham  Young  married  all 
of  the  women  whom  he  called  his  wives." 

"So  he  did  in  a  way.  This  one  was  sealed  to 
him  in  celestial  wedlock.  He  is  said  to  have  had 
several  dozen  married  in  that  way.  He  had  about 
nineteen,  or  twenty,  married  regular  in  the  En- 
dowment House." 

"Did  he  build  homes  for  all  of  these  celestial 
wives  or  widows,  what  ever  their  relation  might 
be?" 

"No!  Not  he,  but  some  pressure  was  brought 
to  bear  in  this  case,  and  Mrs.  Allen  was  a  very 
pretty  woman  then.  She  was  a  favorite  of  this 
great  personage." 

"Oh!  I  see.  Something  after  the  order  of  the 
European  Courts  in  the  days  of  the  French,  dur- 
ing the  reign  of  Louis  XIV." 

The  teamster  was  an  intelligent  man  but  he 
was  not  up  in  the  history  of  Europe.  He  could 
doubtless  tell  all  about  the  small  incidents  of 
American  history  from  the  Colonial  days  down, 
but  across  the  Atlantic  was  too  remote  to  interest 
him. 


The  Town  and  Canyon  of  American  Fork      171 

Here  I  met  a  man  from  Aberdeen,  "Awbur- 
deen"  so  he  pronounced  it;  and  he  was  "that 
Scotch  you  could  see  it  a  distance."  It  is  not  often 
that  the  canny  Scot  is  caught  in  the  meshes  of 
"soopersteeshun,"  such  as  catches  the  more  ex- 
citable, and  less  cautious  native  of  the  States. 
Robert  and  William  Peters,  brothers,  were  both 
here.  The  former  had  been,  and  the  latter  still 
was,  a  Mormon.  In  fact,  William  Peters  was  an 
official,  not  only  of  the  railroad,  of  which  he  was 
the  local  depot  master,  but  he  was  high  upon  the 
rungs  of  the  ecclesiastical  ladder  of  this  Utah 
"Kirk."  Robert  had  left,  not  only  his  first  love, 
the  old  Scotch  Kirk  of  his  boyhood,  but  his  second 
love,  the  church  of  his  "beguilement,"  as  he 
phrased  it. 

"I  was  that  looney  onct,  that  I  was  caught,  like 
a  feesh  by  the  gills,  and  hooked  for  fair  by  them 
Mormons,"  he  said  to  me  in  explanation  of  his 
position. 

He  was  now  a  liberal  and  offered  to  aid  me 
as  much  as  possible  to  start  a  school. 

"My  brither,  Willyum,  is  still  sae  saft  that  he 
sees  not  onnything  but  this  new  fangled  kirk,  but 
I  left  the  same  lang  syne."  He  had  the  true 
Scotch  grit,  and  was  able  to  take  his  position  and 
take  it  alone.  He  led  a  lonely  life,  and  made  his 
living  by  making  shoe  lasts,  and  was  a  master 


172  Tenderfoot  Days 

workman  at  his  trade.  He  could  take  your  foot 
measure,  and  out  of  a  block  of  maple  wood,  cut 
your  last  so  accurately,  that  a  shoe,  built  on  it 
by  a  good  shoemaker,  resulted  in  the  comfort  of 
an  individual  fit.  Moreover,  when  you  put  these 
lasts  into  your  boots,  we  wore  boots  high  up  the 
calf  of  the  leg  in  those  days,  and  the  shape 

'lasted" 

This  was  another  comfort,  that  once  discovered 
by  those  who  could  afford  it,  resulted  in  Robert 
Peters'  getting  many  an  order  for  the  lasts,  both 
for  men  and  for  women. 

There  is  nothing  like  a  singular  handicraft,  de- 
pendent upon  the  individual  skill,  to  make  a  man 
independent  as  to  bread  and  butter.  This  does 
not  mean  that  Robert  ate  much  of  either.  For 
he  did  not.  He  was  a  singular  Scot  in  several 
ways.  He  never  married,  and  would  only  eat 
certain  foods  of  his  own  cooking. 

He  made  Scotch  scones,  rather  too  solid  for 
me,  and  these,  with  potatoes  and  salt,  and  cold 
water,  constituted  his  main  food  supply.  A  little 
herring  and  "parritch"  three  times  a  week  were 
luxuries. 

"Sugar?  No  I  niver  ate  it.  It's  just  salt  with 
the  parritch.  Onnything  else  would  spoil  the  taste 
for  me." 

It  was  evident  that  Robert's  simple  food  was 


The  Town  and  Canyon  of  American  Fork      173 

not  burdensome,  and  as  the  high  cost  of  living  was 
then  unknown,  he  kept  well  within  his  slender 
means. 

I  found  out  that  he  put  his  savings  into  some 
Scotch  charities  in  Aberdeen,  his  old  home  city, 
and  also  that  he  helped  a  little  in  the  efforts  to 
establish  schools  in  Salt  Lake  City.  That  is  to 
say  he  put  in  his  mite. 

"Twa'd  be  the  saving  o'  the  people,  if  they  were 
taught  the  Shorter  Catechism  and  the  Lord's 
Prayer." 

This  was  a  reversion  to  type,  by  way  of  preju- 
dice, and  a  Scotchman  is  nothing,  if  he  is  not 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  something  Scotch-born,  like 
the  Shorter  Catechism.  At  heart,  I  expect,  he 
was  a  believer  in  only  a  few  of  the  universal 
truths  of  all  religions,  but  he  kept  up  a  bold  front 
about  Presbyterianism,  just  out  of  opposition  to 
the  dominant  rule  in  Utah. 

"I?  Do  you  ask  what  I  am?  I  am  a  true 
blue  Presbyterian,"  he  said. 

He  reminded  me  of  the  Wood  brothers  of 
Bingham  Canyon.  They  were  teamsters  and 
drove  mules,  bringing  down  timbers  from  the  top 
of  the  mountains  to  the  different  mining  tunnels, 
much  timber  being  used  to  make  these  tunnels  safe. 
No  man  not  a  saint  far  advanced  can  drive  mules 
and  not  swear.  In  fact,  it  is  said  that  mules  in 


174  Tenderfoot  Days 

tight  places  will  not  move  unless  a  volley  of  oaths 
is  first  launched  their  way.  This  I  had  from  sev- 
eral Army  men  whom  I  knew,  that  had  driven 
mules  in  the  Civil  War. 

I  am  afraid  mule-driving  is  hard  on  the  sanctity 
of  speech.  The  Wood  brothers  were  Presby- 
terians, uaway  back"  where  they  came  from  in 
the  first  place.  They  forgot  all  about  it  in  camp 
life,  during  the  six  laboring  days  of  the  week 
while  working  with  their  mules;  but  on  Sunday 
they  braced  up.  When  they  put  on  clean  shirts 
and  collars — mark  that — they  put  on  something 
of  their  old  time  "away  back"  religion,  and  went 
to  church,  if  there  was  one,  and  put  their  quarter 
in  the  church  collection. 

So  a  good  many  at  first  sight  considered  them 
staunch  church  people,  but  hearing  them  deliver 
themselves  of  "mule  talk"  as  they  were  driving 
their  teams,  they  altered  these  views. 

"Saw  two  of  your  Presbyterian  Elders  to-day, 
the  air  was  bluer  than  their  Presbyterianism,  all 
about  those  mules  of  theirs ;  the  Wood  brothers  I 
mean;  better  look  'em  up,  and  give  them  a  word 
of  spiritual  advice,"  said  a  superintendent  of  one 
of  the  mines  who  liked  to  be  considered  a  humor- 
ous man.  Yet  one  of  these  men,  sweaty  and  cov- 
ered with  dust  and  having  sworn  all  day  long, 
showed  signs  of  remorse. 


The  Town  and  Canyon  of  American  Fork      175 

"Say,  I  know  I'm  not  right,  but  a  man's  temper 
can't  keep  with  mules  and  they  must  be  driv'  that-a 
way.  I  am  goin'  to  get  out  of  this  business  some 
day  and  live  like  a  Christian  ought." 

I  tell  this  because  it  is  so  with  hundreds  of 
men  out  West.  They  know  the  way  that  they  live 
is  not  right  and  all  of  them  mean  to  do  better  some 
day.  The  how  to  do  it,  is  always  beyond  them 
during  the  present  time.  You  can  see  that  the 
exponents  of  other  forms  of  religious  life  and 
faith,  with  such  followers  and  hangers  on,  could 
not  deal  in  criticism  or  denunciation  of  lapsed 
Mormons,  or  for  that  matter  of  standing  Mor- 
mons, for  they  were  no  worse  in  their  actual  lives. 

Robert  Peters  used  to  go  to  church  when  the 
liberal  element  was  strong  enough,  as  it  soon  was, 
to  erect  a  building  and  open  services,  on  Sunday 
night.  The  lady  who  played  the  organ  had  a 
little  girl,  so  small  that  she  had  to  be  held  in  the 
lap.  Robert  Peters  became  nurse  for  the  time 
being  and  faithfully  held  and  quieted  the  child. 

I  think  the  old  man  really  enjoyed,  and  was 
happy  in  assisting  in  this  way  to  aid  the  proprieties 
of  public  worship,  after  the  grave  Scotch  manner. 
In  leaving  the  town  for  the  city,  where  his  busi- 
ness was  likely  to  be  better  for  him,  he  left  for 
the  little  baby  girl  a  book  that  she  might  read  in 
riper  years.  It  was  an  old  Scotch  Sunday  School 


176  Tenderfoot  Days 

book,  thought  to  be  adaptable  to  young  children, 
and  had  for  a  title,  The  Valley  of  Baca  and  a 
beautiful  figure  on  the  cover  representing  a  weep- 
ing woman  bending  over  a  well.  "In  the  Valley 
of  Baca  they  maketh  it  a  well,"  accommodated 
from  the  Book  of  Psalms. 

The  irreverent  hoodlums,  who  used  to  sit  in  the 
back  seats  at  meeting,  dubbed  Robert  "the  Pres- 
byterian Nurse,"  a  title  he  was  proud  of  to  the 
last  day  that  I  knew  him.  William  Peters  was  a 
man  in  conflict  with  himself.  His  past  was  too 
strong  for  his  present,  and  this  kept  him  uncom- 
fortable. His  face  and  speech  showed  his  ire. 
He  could  not  accept  some  things  of  his  new  faith. 

"He's  peeved  about  polygamy,"  said  Robert, 
"he  couldn't  swallow  that,  for  Wyllum  is  a  good 
man  at  the  bottom,  and  thinks  much  of  his  wife, 
wedded  in  Scotland;  but  I  spewed  out  the  whole 
lot." 

I  can  see  his  red  weather-worn  face,  his  spare 
body,  and  can  hear  his  brogue  whenever  I  call 
him  to  mind.  A  man  of  individuality  and  grit; 
with  a  better  education,  he  might  have  made  a 
mark  in  the  world  instead  of  being  a  waste  timber 
thrown  up  by  the  sea  of  life,  one  of  those  sad 
wrecks  left  by  the  tide  of  religious  opinion,  which, 
while  it  has  floated  many  to  a  safe  haven,  has  en- 
gulfed a  great  multitude  in  bitterness  and  isolation, 


The  Town  and  Canyon  of  American  Fork       177 

The  canyon  of  American  Fork  is  worthy  of 
notice.  As  it  has  been  much  described,  I  will 
simply  say  that  its  varied,  rugged,  rock-scenery 
rivals,  in  lesser  magnitude,  the  splendors  of  the 
Yosemite  Valley  in  California.  A  railroad  ran  up 
its  winding,  rocky  sides  passing  over  and  around 
the  purling,  foaming  mountain  stream  rushing 
down  to  the  lake. 

A  prosperous  camp  was  once  the  business  life 
of  the  railroad;  but  when  I  knew  it,  its  commercial 
glory  was  gone.  It  had  been  smashed  by  the 
extravagances  and  expenditures  of  the  many  pro- 
moters, who  are  the  real  curse  of  all  such  enter- 
prises. They  are  after  the  "wad"  held  by  in- 
nocent, trustful,  tenderfoot-investors  and  stock- 
holders. They  get  it  and  go  away,  leaving  the 
ruins  of  a  promising  camp  in  their  wake.  The 
railroad  was  of  principal  use  to  haul  wood  down 
the  canyon,  and  the  tourists  up.  Often  the  depot 
at  American  Fork  was  crowded  with  visitors. 

Many  times  I  have  met  distinguished  men  there, 
bent  on  seeing  the  beauties  of  the  mountain 
canyon;  bishops,  senators,  generals,  financiers  and 
the  capitalists,  came  and  went. 

I  could  mention  some  notable  names,  were  I  not 
purposely  avoiding  personalities  in  these  pages, 
and  confining  myself  to  descriptions  of  real  life 
and  character,  such  as  Utah  presented. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TENDERFOOT    SUPERINTENDENTS 

"Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found, 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground: 
Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies, 
They  fall  successive  and  successive  rise/' 

Pope 

I   WAS  a  Tenderfoot,  in  the  vernacular  of  the 
camp,  but  there  were  many  others  of  the  same 
grade  of  experience.    While,  here  and  there,  vet- 
erans were  in  charge  of  mining  interests,  tender- 
foot superintendents  abounded. 

I  suppose  the  moneyed  men  and  the  stockholders 
of  the  various  incorporated  companies  in  this 
camp  were  under  the  spell  of  romantic  adventure 
in  the  use  of  their  surplus  wealth  in  this  distant 
region,  because  distance  lent  enchantment  to  their 
view.  It  is  remarkable  how  romance  has  influ- 
enced wealth.  Otherwise  rich-freighted  ships 
never  would  have  been  sent  across  wide  seas,  in 
search  of  unknown  lands,  during  the  times  of 

178 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  179 

Queen  Elizabeth.  It  surely  was  romance  which 
formed,  under  the  charter  from  Charles  II,  the 
trading  company  with  this  sonorous  title,  "The 
Govenour  and  Company  of  Gentlemen  Adven- 
turers Trading  into  Hudson's  Bay."  Romance 
helped  to  send  Francis  Drake  around  the  world  in 
search  of  both  gold  and  Spaniards,  and  Walter 
Raleigh  to  make  his  ventures  in  Virginia.  Ro- 
mance lies  back  of  Arctic  Voyages  and  Northwest 
trading  trips  to  "where  rolls  the  Oregon,"  or 
"where  the  wolf's  long  howl  is  heard  on  On- 
alaska's  shore." 

I  do  not  wonder  that  romantic  young  men  were 
found  and  commissioned,  by  romantic  old  men,  to 
superintend  these  mining  ventures. 

These  tenderfoot  superintendents  came  out 
West  smartly  garbed,  even  to  cuffs  and  white  shirt 
collars.  A  few  were  dressed  in  theatrical  garb,  to 
look  their  part  from  the  Eastern  view-point.  They 
looked  ridiculous  to  the  seasoned  miner,  used  to 
hard  tack  and  hard  times.  The  camp  had  quite 
a  group  of  such  young  men,  full  to  the  brim  with  a 
book  and  college  knowledge  of  minerals,  tunnel 
and  shaft  mining.  They  were  educated  in  their 
way,  but  babes  to  the  real  business  of  finding  ores 
and  making  the  search  profitable. 

Of  all  these  tenderfoot  superintendents,  three 
were  known  to  me  very  well,  and  the  first  I  name, 


i8o  Tenderfoot  Days 

became  a  warm  friend. 

Clarence  Waterman  was  a  youth  for  his  posi- 
tion, for  he  was  only  a  little  past  his  majority.  He 
was  growing  a  downy  moustache  and  whiskers, 
but  these  indications  of  manhood  were  silky  with 
the  touch  of  youth.  He  was  a  really  good  fellow 
in  many  ways,  especially  in  his  cheerfulness.  He 
had  the  youth's  bump  of  conceit  well-developed. 
But  this  bump  may  have  helped  him  over  ob- 
stacles which  his  youthfulness  could  not  have  sur- 
mounted. No  doubt  it  was  this  conceit  which  ob- 
tained him  his  position  as  superintendent.  I  can 
imagine  his  father  and  his  father's  friends,  at  a 
company  meeting,  saying, 

"Clarence!  Do  you  think  you  can  manage  our 
mines  out  there  in  Utah?" 

uOh  yes  indeed.  I  can  do  that  easily."  So, 
being  a  favorite  son,  and  a  favored  one  by  the 
company,  this  young  Mr.  Inexperience  was  dubbed 
Mining  Superintendent,  financed  for  his  journey, 
and  entrusted  with  the  funds  to  open  new  work  in 
Bingham  Canyon. 

Tom  Robbins  was  a  dark-featured,  gloomy-vis- 
aged  young  man,  who  grew  a  fierce  black  mous- 
tache. His  eyes  showed  much  of  the  sclerotic  coat, 
and  he  had  a  way  of  rolling  his  eyes  which  made 
him  look  fiercer  and  more  commanding  than  he 
really  was.  He  had  charge  of  the  Grey  Eagle 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  181 

group  of  mines,  and  to  hear  him  talk  you  would 
feel  sure  the  only  real  mineral  wealth  of  the  camp 
was  in  this  group.  He  was  of  a  musical  turn,  and 
put  a  great  deal  of  the  company's  money  into  a 
Steinway  piano,  which  was  placed  in  his  office  in 
the  best  hotel  of  the  town.  He  was  a  rattling 
player,  and  spent  much  of  his  spare  time  in  the 
company  of  some  musical  young  women  of  a  neigh- 
boring boarding  house.  This  tenderfoot  super- 
intendent was  ideally  togged  out  by  Eastern  tail- 
ors, and  looked  like  a  stage  hero,  much  to  the 
delight  of  the  girls. 

The  third  of  these  men  was  James  Shuthler.  He 
looked  more  like  a  dry-goods  clerk  in  size,  build, 
and  manner  of  carriage  than  a  forceful  boss  of 
mining  men  of  the  wild  West.  Shuthler,  like  most 
little  men,  was  a  great  talker,  but  there  was  a 
steely  look  in  his  pale-blue  eyes  which  showed  he 
had  "grit"  at  the  bottom.  He  had  a  hobby.  It 
was  playing  a  worn,  shabby  violin,  which  he  af- 
firmed was  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  old  and  once 
the  property  of  a  German  master  of  music.  He 
certainly  got  very  sweet  strains  out  of  its  strings, 
and  he  and  Robbins  were  the  center  of  attraction 
at  every  social  and  dance. 

Clarence  Waterman's  special  interest  was  a  di- 
vided one.  When  not  thumping  his  Remington 
typewriter  he  was  riding  his  rat-tailed  broncho.  It 


1 82  Tenderfoot  Days 

was  one  of  those  vicious  little  beasts  which  show 
their  mustang  origin.  When  a  horse  uses  his 
tail  like  a  whisk-broom,  and  puts  back  his  ears  like 
a  rabbit  when  you  saddle  him,  you  naturally  look 
for  trouble  of  some  sort.  Waterman  loaded  down 
his  little  broncho  with  a  full  outfit  of  Mexican 
saddlery,  and  the  little  beast  was  double-bitted,  and 
so  strapped  fore  and  aft  that  his  inexperienced 
rider  seldom  came  to  grief.  He  paid  some  horse- 
shark  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  for  a 
fifteen  dollar  animal,  but  he  was  so  proud  of  his 
nimble  purchase,  for  the  horse  could  run,  that  we 
left  him  alone  in  his  glory. 

The  real  work  in  these  mines  was  done  by  the 
foremen,  usually  old  hands;  while  these  superin- 
tendents got  all  the  honor  through  correspondence 
with  headquarters,  and  the  disbursements  of  the 
payroll  money  that  came  regularly  through  their 
hands. 

One  old  foreman  was  a  former  cook.  This  I 
knew  since  I  ate  a  Thanksgiving  dinner  which  he 
produced  out  of  the  abundant  stores  of  the  mine, 
and  his  skill  with  a  big  cook  stove.  It  was  a  fine 
assortment  of  food  built  out  of  canned  goods,  all 
save  a  huge  steak  smothered  in  onions.  This  re- 
past sufficed  for  six  hungry  miners  and  three  visi- 
tors, besides  himself,  and  cost  the  management 
quite  a  penny. 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  183 

But  miners,  I  found,  are  nothing  if  not  hospit- 
able ;  and  one  never  failed  to  be  invited  to  a  good 
meal  if  one  happened  in  at  the  right  time. 

I  went  up  to  see  all  of  these  mining  ventures, 
entered  all  of  the  tunnels,  and  went  down  all  of 
the  shafts;  also  asked  a  great  many  useless  ques- 
tions, while  the  working-shift  patiently  answered 
between  pauses  in  shovelling  rock. 

The  Ilion  Mine,  Clarence  Waterman  Superin- 
tendent,— if  you  had  read  the  sign  board  on  the 
tunnel  house, — was  a  wet  mine.  They  were  sup- 
posed to  be  seeking  the  rich  mineral  vein,  beneath 
the  discovery  hole  on  the  summit  of  a  rocky  bluff 
overlooking  the  canyon. 

An  able  mineralogist,  a  learned  geologist  and 
the  surveyor  specialist, — all  high  priced  men, — 
had  reported  that  the  signs  indicated  a  big  bonanza 
below  this  discovery  hole.  So  after  it  they  went 
with  men,  money  and  machinery.  When  I  went 
into  the  wet  workings,  the  tunnel's  breast  was  nine 
hundred  feet  from  the  entrance.  A  large  gutter 
was  cut,  as  they  ran  the  tunnel  in,  since  the  face 
and  walls  oozed  water  so  constantly  that  a  little 
river  ran  out  of  the  entry  and  down  the  mountain 
side.  This  whole  tunnel  was  timbered  and  re- 
quired no  end  of  prepared  wood  and  a  couple  of 
carpenters  to  keep  up  with  the  miners.  Now 
wages  were  high,  four  or  five  dollars  a  day,  tim- 


1 84  Tenderfoot  Days 

her  scarce  and  high  too.  You  could  see  money 
going  into  the  hole,  but  you  could  not  see  it  coming 
out.  The  Ilion  people  had  great  faith  in  their 
great  mine,  but  that  did  not  prevent  its  being  a 
great  failure.  Stereotyped  reports  of  the  workings 
were  sent  in  every  week,  and  for  a  time  the  goose 
that  laid  the  golden  egg  kept  on  laying  it.  The 
miners  laughed  over  these  reports,  but  receiving 
their  wages  regularly  they  worked  on  at  what 
their  practical  knowledge  foresaw  would  be  a  bar- 
ren result.  At  the  time  I  left  Utah  the  mine  was 
closed  down,  another  one  among  a  hundred  fail- 
ures. 

I  started  a  day  school.  The  community  had 
voted  against  a  public  school,  for  the  population 
was  a  transient  one,  and  little  interested  in  family 
life  and  in  the  care  of  children.  Several  respon- 
sible men  urged  me  to  undertake  a  private  educa- 
tion for  the  public.  I  rented  a  part  of  a  vacant 
hotel,  the  parlor  and  dining  room,  and  this  made 
a  good  sized  schoolroom  to  accommodate  fifty 
scholars. 

I  also  purchased  the  red-wood  shelving  of  a  de- 
funct dry-goods  store,  and  worked  up  this  lumber, 
with  a  little  outside  help,  into  seats  and  desks  in 
lieu  of  the  usual  school  furniture.  People  were 
not  so  particular  then  about  the  outfitting  of  a 
schoolhouse.  In  a  camp  like  Bingham,  where  the 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  185 

church  building  was  an  old  saloon,  somewhat  al- 
tered, it  was  not  difficult  to  make  a  hotel  parlor 
serve  for  a  schoolhouse. 

These  camp  buildings  were  of  the  up-and-down 
rough-lumber  sort,  with  the  cracks  covered  with 
strips  of  the  same  stuff.  None  of  the  buildings 
were  painted,  save  one  pretentious  hotel,  the  aris- 
tocrat of  the  camp. 

I  used  to  have  the  room  full  of  boys  and  girls, 
who  came  at  9  A.  M.  on  Mondays  to  pay  their 
school  dues  in  the  dirty,  sticky  currency  of  the  day. 
"Shin-plasters,"  these  little  bills  of  the  Federal 
Treasury,  were  called.  We  seldom  saw  a  piece  of 
silver  coin,  for  it  had  all  gone  either  to  Canada 
or  Europe.  Our  school  hours  were  from  9  A.  M. 
to  i  P.  M.,  with  a  recess  midday.  I  secured  a 
supply  of  old  books,  maps,  and  blackboard  mate- 
rial in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  gave  them  free  to  the 
school.  The  cost  of  this  education  to  each  scholar 
was  a  fifty-cent  "shin-plaster"  paid  every  Monday. 

Most  of  the  children  were  studious  and  seemed 
glad  to  have  the  chance  to  get  at  their  books.  I 
had  a  little  trouble  now  and  then.  For  instance, 
a  couple  of  boys  of  twelve  and  fourteen  years,  sons 
of  a  saloon  man,  seemed  to  be  ambitious  to  rival 
the  toughs  of  the  bar-room.  One  of  them  carried 
a  big  knife  on  the  inside  of  his  leg-boot,  while  the 
other  secreted  a  small  caliber  Smith  &  Wesson 


1 86  Tenderfoot  Days 

revolver  in  his  pants  rear-pocket.  This  last  young- 
ster was  quite  ferocious  in  his  talk,  for  he  asserted 
that  he  had  ugot  his  man."  It  seemed,  on  inquiry, 
that  he  had  accidentally  shot  another  boy,  in  rough 
play,  with  a  pistol.  The  foolish  jests  of  the  roughs 
about  his  father's  place  had  taken  serious  root  in 
his  mind,  so  he  was  really  proud  of  his  "bloody 
record,"  like  any  other  "bad  man."  I  took  their 
arsenal  away  and  requested  their  father  to  come 
for  the  weapons.  This  he  did,  and  when  I  sug- 
gested he  lock  up  these  weapons  and  keep  his  boys 
out  of  harm's  way  he  declared  his  boys  were  not 
being  raised  umilk-sops,"  but  to  fight  their  way 
through  life.  Probably  years  later  these  boys  may 
have  fulfilled  their  foolish  father's  wishes  and  fig- 
ured as  "gunmen,"  ending  their  lives  by  dying 
with  their  boots  on. 

This  school  ran  all  winter  and  well  into  spring, 
when  an  epidemic  of  scarlet  fever  entered  the 
camp,  through  some  Mormon  teamsters  from  the 
valley  towns,  and  perforce  the  school  was  closed 
for  the  season.  This  schoolroom  was  used  two 
evenings  of  each  week  for  musicals.  I  had  a  small 
organ,  with  handles,  which  Clarence  Waterman 
and  myself  carried  back  and  forth  from  school  to 
church,  as  it  was  needed. 

To  these  Sings  in  the  schoolroom  the  tender- 
foot superintendents  before  mentioned  and  a  num- 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  187 

her  of  young  women  interested  in  music  and  church 
work  used  to  come.  Without  doubt  the  sex  at- 
traction had  much  to  do  with  this  weekly  rally  of 
the  younger  element,  since  the  men  came  generally 
as  escorts  of  the  ladies.  How  much  religion  is 
based  on  human  interest,  and  how  much  on  super- 
human interest,  is  a  vital  query  hard  to  answer  cor- 
rectly. I  suppose  the  mysteries  of  life,  and  its  ap- 
parent dissolution,  have  a  strong  pull,  .which  is 
almost  superhuman  in  its  power  for  church  going; 
but  I  also  think  that  Reuben  and  Rachel  cut  a 
figure  in  the  making  of  a  congregation.  There 
were  good  musicians  and  some  fair  singers  who 
were  willing  to  exercise  their  gifts  and  spend  time 
in  this  way,  but  no  sense  of  duty  was  the  motive ; 
only  the  simple  idea  of  something  pleasant  to  do. 
When  it  seemed  an  unpleasant  task  it  was  not 
done,  and  they  did  not  trouble  to  come. 

I  was  forced  to  do  a  little  mining.  I  occupied  a 
very  small  house,  built  close  into  the  hill  on  a 
narrow  slip  of  ground;  the  road  passing  so  close 
in  front  that  the  ore  wagons,  in  going  by,  often 
struck  the  steps  in  front.  A  roaring  creek  was 
just  across  the  road.  A  slide  of  earth  from  the 
steep  hill,  back  of  the  house,  bulged  in  the  kitchen 
wall.  I  procured  the  miner's  weapons,  a  pick  and 
shovel,  and  began  digging  away  the  dirt. 

"Say!  pan  out  that  dirt.     You  may  find  gold 


1 88  Tenderfoot  Days 

color."  Waterman  was  passing  and  called  to  me. 
I  laughed  at  the  boyish  idea,  but  took  his  advice. 
In  the  creek  a  few  feet  below  I  washed  out  several 
pans  of  dirt,  using  the  rotary  movement  which 
carries  the  surplus  dirt  over  the  edge  of  the  pan, 
but  no  color  appeared  for  some  time.  I  persevered 
and  was  rewarded  by  seeing  a  sparkle  in  the  black 
sediment  in  the  bottom  of  the  tin  dish.  This  oc- 
curred every  now  and  then.  By  the  time  I  tired, 
and  had  removed  all  the  land-slip,  I  was  possessed 
with  a  very  small  can  of  sediment.  This  I  washed 
over  carefully  and  collected  a  few  small  grains  of 
color.  In  the  assay  office,  later,  I  found  my  hour's 
labor  had  yielded  fifty  cents'  worth  of  gold.  This 
was  a  wage  of  four  dollars  a  day  of  eight  hours 
of  labor. 

I  record  this  to  show  how  alluring  the  conditions 
were  to  a  tenderfoot.  The  creek  was  a  rich  placer 
in  many  spots,  the  hills  had  often  signs  of  pay 
dirt,  while  the  rocks,  when  mined,  contained  visible 
veins  of  lead,  silver,  and  gold  leading  to  ore 
pockets,  and  sometimes  to  great  ore  deposits  which 
required  only  the  science  of  the  smelter  to  reduce 
to  commercial  wealth. 

I  witnessed  the  luck  of  one  tenderfoot  superin- 
tendent. He  had  lost  his  job,  for  his  company  had 
"gone  broke,"  as  the  saying  is.  Tom  Darmody 
was  a  very  easy-going  fellow,  who  had  brought  out 


Tenderfoot  Superintendents  189 

his  wife  that  he  might  have  home  cooking  instead 
of  cook-house  fare.  They  lived  in  a  little  shack 
on  the  other  side  of  the  creek.  He  was  mining 
on  his  own  account,  and  I  often  saw  him  come 
home  wet  and  disgusted  with  his  hard  labor.  One 
day  he  got  back  in  time  to  find  his  wife  on  the 
roof  of  the  shack  shrieking,  "A  snake !  A  snake !" 

A  big  rattler  was  in  the  kitchen,  and  had  driven 
the  mistress  outdoors.  This  was  nothing  strange, 
for  the  rocks  were  full  of  these  reptiles  in  the 
warm  weather.  A  little  pistol  work  laid  out  Mr. 
Rattlesnake,  with  eight  buttons  on  his  tail,  a  harm- 
less but  hideous  corpse  on  the  kitchen  floor.  A 
bevy  of  housewives  soon  assembled  to  view  the 
creature  and  to  congratulate  the  lady  of  the  house 
on  her  escape  and  the  bravery  she  had  shown.  I 
feel  sure  that  Tom  Darmody  gallantly  told  it 
around  that  his  wife  did  the  shooting.  One  day 
Darmody  came  in  on  the  stride  and  shouting, 
"We've  struck  it  rich!"  He  had  broken  into  a 
large  ore  chamber. 

"Our  fortune's  made,  my  dear!  We  can  go 
home  in  a  month." 

They  did.  In  a  few  days  he  sold  out  his  fine 
prospect  to  a  mining  crew  for  $25,000  and  left 
for  the  "East  and  Happiness,"  to  use  his  own 
words.  He  was  sensible.  He  did  not  stay  to  re- 
invest his  fortune,  nor  gamble  it  away  in  expecta- 


190  Tenderfoot  Days 

tion  of  still  better  luck. 

There  was  one  lucky  superintendent  who  was 
not  a  tenderfoot.  Old  Judge  Eells,  a  man  of  sixty- 
five,  and  his  wife,  an  old-time  lady  of  rare  amiabil- 
ity, were  residents  of  the  camp.  I  boarded  with 
Judge  Eells  for  two  months  and  found  him  a  man 
of  fine  character.  He  always  had  family  worship 
in  his  house  every  Sunday,  and  thought  he  was 
doing  well  for  the  West.  And  so  he  was.  Late 
one  Saturday  night  he  and  his  partner  opened  up 
a  large  pocket  of  ore ;  he  insisted  on  waiting  until 
Monday  before  demonstrating  its  extent.  You 
see  the  grit  of  the  man  in  this  action.  His  partner 
offered  him  $16,000  for  his  prospects  before  Mon- 
day was  past.  Listening  to  his  wife's  plea,  he  ac- 
cepted the  sum  offered,  and  the  old  couple  re- 
turned to  their  home  in  Waukesha,  Wisconsin, 
there  to  enjoy  their  good  fortune. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  TENDERFOOT'S  ROMANCE 

"How  happy  I'd  be  with  either, 
Were  t'other  dear  charmer  away." 

Old  Melody 

THIS  is  a  story  of  divided  affections,  which 
threatened  at  one  time  to  end  in  the  divided 
lives  of  two  young  people.  Youth  has  its  ro- 
mances, and  so  had  the  youth,  Clarence  Water- 
man. 

I  was  going  down  the  canyon  by  the  way  of  the 
mule  tramway.  It  was  built  along  the  canyon  side, 
a  little  higher  than  the  street.  I  used  to  look  out 
for  rattlers,  as  it  was  a  favorite  place  for  the 
snakes.  They  would  crawl  out  in  the  sun  and  lie 
along  the  track.  The  mules  used  to  be  affronted 
at  them  and  the  drivers  used  to  crack  their  whips 
and  sometimes  their  guns  at  these  reptiles. 

The  tarantula  spider  often  occupied  the  track. 
I  met  one  the  day  of  which  I  am  now  speaking. 
He  was  on  a  tie,  and  up  on  his  long,  high,  hairy 

191 


192  Tenderfoot  Days 

legs.  His  wicked  eyes  were  on  me  when  I  first 
caught  sight  of  his  pose.  I  knew  that  he  was  ready 
to  jump,  for  this  spider  is  as  aggressive  as  he  is 
big.  He  did  spring;  but  so  did  I,  and  he  passed 
me  on  the  inside  track,  and  struck  the  rocks,  up 
which  he  jumped  out  of  sight.  I  later  saw  one 
like  him.  He  was  in  a  big  bottle  and  safe  in  al- 
cohol to  preserve  him  on  his  journey  east.  His 
eyes  and  hairy  limbs  were  suggestive  of  the  temper 
of  this  fighting  spider. 

Mrs.  Eells,  who  was  with  me,  said,  "How  hor- 
rid !  Take  it  away."  This  expressed  everybody's 
feelings. 

It  was  just  after  this  little  episode  in  camp  life 
that  I  saw  Clarence  Waterman  pass  down  the 
street  astride  his  broncho,  garbed  in  full  regimen- 
tals as  a  broncho  buster.  I  shouted  aloud  to  him, 
"Where  are  you  bound  for  aboard  that  cayuse?" 

"I'm  due  at  the  canyon-mouth  to  race  Miss 
Gladys  Glynn's  white  pony.  The  wager  is  a  new 
saddle.  Come  on!" 

He  rode  off.  I  followed  along  the  track  more 
leisurely,  until  I  neared  the  depot. 

A  good  sized  crowd  was  gathered  there,  for 
just  beyond  this  terminus  of  the  carline  the  canyon 
opened  out  into  a  big  bay  of  land  encircled  with 
the  lower  foothills.  In  this  space  was  the  cattle- 
men's corral,  the  slaughter  yards  for  the  camp 
and,  around  the  outer  limits,  was  a  roadway  in 


A    Tenderfoots   Romance  193 

imitation  of  a  racing  oval.  This  was  the  horse- 
racing  circle,  minus  restraining  fence  and  bleacher 
seats  and  grandstand.  There  was  a  rough  sort  of 
stand  for  privileged  spectators,  and  I  saw  the 
elite  of  the  camp  beginning  to  occupy  these  seats. 

A  young  woman  sat  on  a  white  horse.  The  ani- 
mal was  small,  but  neat  of  limb  and  a  pet  by  the 
way  its  rider  was  caressing  the  arching  neck  and 
silver  mane.  This  was  Miss  Gladys  Glynn,  the 
open-air  belle  of  the  region  and  the  pride  and  ad- 
miration of  the  cowboys.  She  was  a  rustic  beauty 
of  the  brunette  type,  and  as  her  women  friends 
said  of  her,  "as  smart  as  a  whip."  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  fire  and  fun.  Her  tongue  was  quick  in 
repartee  and  her  mind  active,  intelligent  and 
charming.  A  good  many  of  the  men  were  charmed 
with  her,  and  very  violently  so  was  Clarence 
Waterman.  He  had  gone  riding  with  this  young 
horsewoman  several  times  and  the  present  race, 
just  coming  off,  was  the  result  of  a  bet  as  to  the 
speed  of  the  white  pony  and  the  brown  broncho. 

A  tall,  dark-bearded  man,  in  black  coat  and 
top  boots,  was  slapping  a  whip  on  his  open  palm 
and  talking  to  the  girl  rider.  This  I  knew  was 
Dr.  Howard  Glynn,  her  father,  and  the  owner 
of  the  big  cattle  range  and  ranch  just  below  us 
in  the  valley.  It  was  his  sheep  and  catde  that 
ranged  the  hills  and  who  employed  the  bunch  of 


194  Tenderfoot  Days 

cowboys  standing  by.  It  was  his  sage-brush  fed 
mutton  that  the  camp  ate,  and  so  disliked.  But 
as  the  other  fresh  meat  was  not  handy,  we  becamd 
very  familiar  with  Doc  Glynn's  sage-brush  beef 
and  mutton;  especially  the  mutton,  as  it  retained 
the  sage  taste  with  more  pronounced  effect,  after 
cooking,  than  did  the  beef. 

He  was  a  veterinary  surgeon,  retired  from  that 
trying  occupation,  as  he  said,  and  fast  getting  rich 
off  a  free  range  and  sage-fed  live-stock.  The 
canyon  and  camp  was  his  bonanza,  and  he  was 
working  it  for  all  it  was  worth,  in  the  way  of  a 
close  and  ready  market  for  meat. 

Gladdie  Glynn  was  therefore  well  known,  and 
the  center  of  beaux  of  all  sorts  and  ages.  It  was 
said  that  a  very  prominent  Mormon  apostle  want- 
ed her  for  one  of  his  wives,  but  if  anybody  dared 
to  repeat  this  rumor  he  was  very  likely  to  get  into 
a  fight  with  the  men  of  the  camp. 

"Come  on,  Prof,"  called  Tom  Robbins,  as  I 
reached  the  depot,  "you  are  just  in  time  for  this 
Rodeo.  Let's  see  Waterman  licked  to  a  frazzle 
by  Gladdie  and  her  pony." 

Waterman  had  told  me  some  things  about  his 
home  life,  and  once  or  twice  of  an  engagement  to 
a  sweet  looking  girl,  whose  photograph  stood  on 
his  bureau.  I  thought  at  first  he  was  just  boast- 
ing, but  I  found  that  it  was  a  fact  when  a  letter 


A    Tenderfoot's  Romance  195 

came  reporting  her  illness. 

He  kept  the  telegraph  operator  busy  for  some 
days,  until  the  young  lady  was  reported  out  of 
danger.  It  looked  at  one  time  as  though  he  would 
throw  up  his  job  and  hurry  East.  Hence  I  knew 
that  he  was  serious  and  that  he  was  an  engaged 
man. 

I  did  not  quite  like  his  flirting  with  Miss  Glad- 
die  Glynn,  who  showed  more  partiality  for  him 
than  she  did  for  any  other  of  her  many  admirers. 
I  suppose  it  was  this  evident  choice  of  the  girl  and 
the  propinquity  due  to  their  horse  interests  that 
made  them  a  little  more  than  friends  or  chums 
and  threatened  a  romantic  end  to  their  acquaint- 
ance. 

I  could  not  see  how  Waterman  could  be  car- 
ried away  thus,  if  he  really  loved  the  girl  in  the 
East  who  wore  his  ring,  but  man,  especially  the 
younger  man,  is  a  fickle  force,  as  much  so  as  for- 
tune is  a  fickle  jade.  So  I  watched  these  two  as 
they  met  and  noted  the  interested  glances  of  both 
and  the  more-than-warm  handclasp. 

It  was  a  friendly  affair,  this  race.  The  usual 
fussy  preliminaries  by  the  self-appointed  arrang- 
ers followed  the  meeting  of  the  principals.  Until 
I  saw  the  crowd  I  was  not  fully  aware  of  the  in- 
terest of  the  occasion,  nor  of  the  popularity  of  the 
contestants.  Four  officious  cowboys,  with  an  air  of 


196  Tenderfoot  Days 

proprietorship,  attended  to  Miss  Gladdie's  saddle, 
bridle  and  bit.  Another  set  of  boys  did  the  same 
for  Waterman's  broncho,  and  the  way  in  which 
the  creature  switched  its  bottle-brush  tail  was  a 
strong  proof  that  the  animal's  evil  disposition  was 
fully  awake. 

Soon  all  was  ready.  It  was  to  be  four  times 
around  the  circle,  which  meant  just  two  miles.  Doc 
Glynn  fired  his  gun,  and  they  were  off,  neck  and 
neck.  Miss  Gladdie  had  the  pole  by  courtesy  and 
cowboy  wit.  Now  Waterman's  little  beast  was  a 
runner,  when  mad,  and  he  was  mad  on  this  occa- 
sion. I  could  see  that  the  girl  was  the  best  rider. 
She  was  born  to  the  saddle,  for  her  father  had 
been  a  cattle-man  since  her  childhood.  She  was 
raised  to  ride  a  horse. 

Once  round  the  circle  they  passed  us  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  still  nearly  abreast,  the  broncho  having 
the  greater  strength,  but  being  handicapped  by 
being  on  the  outer  circle.  Yells,  cheers,  and  hat 
wavings  saluted  them.  Soon  we  saw  the  dust  ris- 
ing on  the  homestretch,  and  then  something  hap- 
pened. Waterman  put  too  much  spur  into  his  en- 
couragement at  this  point  and  his  broncho  showed 
his  breed  by  a  vicious  buck  almost  unseating  the 
rider. 

It  needed  but  this  little  show-off  to  put  the  pale 
pony  in  the  lead  by  several  lengths,  and  Miss 


A    Tenderfoot's  Romance  197 

Gladdie  passed  the  tape,  giving  the  dust  of  her 
passage  to  Waterman's  cavorting  steed,  which 
came  in  more  like  a  crab  than  a  horse,  a  loser  by 
seven  lengths.  The  outcome  was  very  popular,  of 
course,  and  Clarence  was  in  for  a  new  saddle  and 
bridle  for  the  fair  winner. 

"I  knew  that  useless  mustang  of  yours  would 
play  hob,"  said  James  Shuthler;  "don't  see  where 
you  can  like  the  beast.  I'd  shoot  him  for  just  that 
sort  of  trick." 

"Why  did  you  use  so  much  spur?"  I  asked  the 
loser. 

"Well,  it's  easy  for  you  to  talk,  but  I  thought 
that  just  that  much  of  a  prick  would  do  the  busi- 
ness. I  was  gaining  fast  at  the  time." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  were  so  un- 
gallant  in  intention  as  to  mean  to  win?"  I  said. 

"Surely  I  meant  to  win;  why  not?  It  was  a 
race,  and  gallantry  was  considered  ruled  out  of  the 
contest  by  the  lady's  own  wish." 

A  merry  crowd  it  was  after  the  race.  Several 
cowboys  showed  off  their  tricks,  but  by  degrees 
the  crowd  thinned  out  and  left  the  horsemen  to 
themselves. 

This  event  brought  the  two  young  people  closer 
together  and  was  the  means  of  starting  this  ro- 
mance. A  good  many  knew  nothing  of  Water- 
man's eastern  sweetheart,  and  supposed  that  he 


198  Tenderfoot  Days 

was  the  favored  one.  In  fair  play  they  "kept  off 
the  grass,"  as  they  called  it.  Several  days  later 
Clarence  Waterman  came  to  me. 

"Can  you  get  away  to  join  a  riding  party  to 
Provo  in  the  next  valley?  We  are  going  to  start 
to-morrow  at  five  in  the  morning  and  make  the 
fifty  miles  by  sundown.  The  next  day  we  ride  on 
to  the  end  of  the  railroad,  fifty  miles  further.  Doc 
Glynn  has  a  lot  of  cattle  coming  up  from  Nephi 
and  Miss  Gladdie  and  I  are  going  with  the  boys 
and  her  father.  Would  like  you  to  come." 

"Cannot  do  it  just  now.  I  have  to  go  over  to 
Alta  City  to-morrow,  and  it  is  a  three-day  trip 
before  I  get  back." 

So  the  Romance  began.  Just  how  far  these  two 
understood  one  another  I  do  not  know  to  this 
day.  As  far  as  looks  go,  they  were  mutually  at- 
tracted, and  I  think  that  the  girl  was  really  in  love 
at  last.  She  had  passed  through  much  flirtation, 
of  course,  and  had  received  proposals  by  the  dozen 
from  susceptible  young  men,  cowboys,  miners  and 
men  of  means.  It  was  evident  she  was  not  so 
heart-free  as  formerly,  for  Waterman's  good 
looks  and  good  breeding  had  made  an  impression. 

They  started  on  the  trip  and  had  a  merry  time 
of  it  the  first  day.  A  ride  of  fifty  miles  was  a  com- 
mon thing  for  such  people  and  such  ponies.  Their 
stock  of  horseflesh  was  tough  of  breed  and  could 


A    Tenderfoot's   Romance  199 

wear  out  more  mettled  and  expensive  stock,  un- 
used to  these  hills  and  valleys.  By  the  afternoon 
of  the  second  day  they  met  the  herd  of  cattle,  and 
the  Doctor  and  his  cowboys  took  charge  of  the 
return  drive.  His  daughter  and  Waterman  were 
to  return  by  train  from  the  railroad  terminus,  their 
horses  being  used  by  the  cowboys. 

Right  then  it  happened.  An  unexpected  delay 
of  a  day  in  the  transfer  of  the  cattle  by  the  former 
owner,  a  Mormon  rancher,  gave  the  young  couple 
an  idea.  It  was  to  ride  over  to  Nephi,  eighteen 
miles  south,  and  return  on  that  surplus  day.  They 
wanted  to  be  alone.  I  am  certain  Clarence  was 
fast  forgetting  his  Ida  Gertrude  in  the  East,  whose 
portrait  stood  on  his  dressing  table  in  Bingham. 
The  bright  eyes  and  charm  of  Gladdie  Glynn  were 
doing  the  work  of  forgetfulness.  Such  is  pro- 
pinquity, the  motive  power  of  many  a  marriage 
which  afterward  is  regretted.  Doctor  Glynn 
seemed  to  favor  the  desires  of  the  two  young  peo- 
ple, and  said: 

"Be  back  in  time  to  give  the  ponies  a  good  rest 
before  our  start  to-morrow.  They  don't  ride  back 
on  the  cars  like  you  two  lucky  ones.'5 

They  rode  off.  They  had  an  ideal  lover's  ride 
down  to  Nephi.  Here  they  were  to  dine,  rest  and 
return  in  the  afternoon.  Both  horses  had  cast  a 
shoe.  The  blacksmith  was  absent,  gone  "to  see  a 


200  Tenderfoot  Days 

man,"  and  two  hours  passed  before  he  returned. 
It  took  another  hour  before  the  horses  were  ready 
for  the  road,  and  by  that  time  it  was  almost  dark. 
Meanwhile  one  of  those  fierce  wind-storms  arose. 
Locally  it  is  known  as  a  Mormon  storm,  because  it 
is  all  wind,  dust  and  no  rain.  It  is  the  dread  of 
the  rider,  especially  if  the  rider  be  a  woman.  Now, 
the  two  young  people  were  not  clad  for  a  storm, 
for  they  had  left  their  heavy  dustcoats  with  the 
outfit  at  the  station  that  morning.  They  had 
thought  to  ride  light  and  return  in  the  warm  after- 
noon. 

Then  another  thing  happened.  Was  it  fate? 
A  deluge  of  rain  followed  the  blow,  a  thing  seldom 
occurring  in  this  locality,  and  for  hours  the  storm 
raged. 

"What  shall  we  do?  We  can't  go  on  till  this  is 
over,"  said  Gladdie  Glynn. 

"We  are  fixed  to  stay  here  until  to-morrow;  I'm 
almost  afraid  to  say  it,"  answered  Clarence  Water- 
man. 

"Oh!  What  will  father  think?  He  knows  I'm 
to  be  back  with  him  this  evening.  He'll  think 
we've  started  out  before  the  storm." 

"But  we  can't  start  now,  in  such  a  storm  as 
this;  can  we?"  objected  Clarence.  "We'll  have  to 
put  up  at  this  one-horse  hotel  and  start  to-morrow 
at  sun-rise." 


A    Tenderfoots   Romance  201 

"What  will  people  think  of  us?"  said  Gladdie 
Glynn.  She  looked  hard  at  her  companion. 

"It's  none  of  their  affair.  We  are  straight  liv- 
ers. I'm  not  afraid,  if  you  are  not,  to  face  silly 
talk!" 

"Well!  If  you  think  so,  I'm  game  to  stay  on 
here.  I'm  no  more  afraid  of  talk  than  you.  But 
I  fear  father  will  scold  sharply  for  this  delay. 
You  know  by  this  time  he  has  a  fiery  temper  at 
times;  and  this  will  be  one  of  those  temper-times." 

"Oh !  When  he  knows  the  reason  of  our  delay 
I'm  sure  he  would  rather  you  stayed  snug  under 
cover  here  than  ride  in  the  rain  and  darkness  to- 
night!" 

They  made  known  their  needs  to  the  hotel- 
keeper.  Now,  he  was  a  Mormon  and  saw  a  chance 
to  play  a  trick  on  these  two  young  gentiles.  Some 
time  afterwards  I  myself  put  up  at  this  hotel  and 
met  this  very  man.  I  did  not  like  his  eye.  The 
eye  is  the  gateway  of  the  mind,  and  I  saw  a  malice 
in  his  eye  which  explained  some  things  concern- 
ing this  romance  of  the  stormbound  couple. 

"I  can  accommodate  you,  young  people.  Are 
you  married  or  are  you  intending  to  git  married?" 
he  said  to  them. 

This  was  not  a  proper  question,  and  yet  it 
seemed  warranted  by  the  circumstances. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Gladdie  Glynn,   "and  it's 


2O2  Tenderfoot  Days 

none  of  your  business." 

"I  only  asked,  young  people,"  answered  the 
landlord,  "as  there  is  only  one  spare  room  for 
travellers,  but  I  can  fix  it  so  as  you  needn't  know 
there's  any  one  but  yourself.  I  have  a  nice  cot-bed 
in  the  alcove,  which  can  be  curtained  off.  The 
young  man  can  use  the  lounge  by  the  window.  I've 
done  this  way  for  lots  of  travellers,  and  no  harm 
came  of  it." 

Clarence  and  Gladdie  looked  at  each  other  for 
a  long  moment;  their  eyes  saw,  mutually,  respect 
and  confidence  in  the  glance. 

"I  can  stand  it  all  right  if  you  can,"  said  Clar- 
ence; "it's  for  you  to  say.  I  can  go  out  and  sit  in 
a  chair  in  the  office  if  necessary." 

"If  it  won't  hurt  you  it  won't  hurt  me,"  said 
Gladdie.  "I  don't  wish  you  to  sit  up  all  night." 

"Well,  then,  landlord,"  said  Clarence,  "fix  it 
up  as  you  say." 

Storm-bound,  and  mutually  confident  of  one  an- 
other, and  also  brave  to  face  the  tattle  of  the  gos- 
siper,  they  did  this  thing  and  occupied  the  one 
room  in  the  inn.  The  girl  slept  out  her  tiredness 
behind  the  curtains  and  Clarence  snored  to  his 
heart's  content  on  the  lounge  by  the  window  and 
behind  a  blanket  thrown  over  two  chairs. 

They  were  innocent  of  harm,  but  would  the 
world  believe  it? 


A    Tenderfoot's   Romance  203 

It  was  a  fair  morning,  and  as  early  as  they 
could  get  off  they  left  Nephi.  They  made  the 
railway  depot  in  four  hours  for  breakfast  with  Dr. 
Glynn.  He  had  been  in  a  terrible  temper  over 
their  absence,  and  when  he  learned  of  the  facts 
of  their  hotel  experience  he  looked  darkly  at 
Waterman. 

"You  young  fool !  Can't  you  see  what  a  cloud 
this  is  on  Gladdie?  You've  got  to  marry  her  now 
whether  you  mean  it  or  not,"  said  the  enraged 
father. 

Now,  if  Clarence  had  not  been  engaged,  as  he 
was  to  Ida  Gertrude,  he  could  have  answered  this 
demand  with  zest. 

But  here  was  the  rub.  It  had  come  over  him 
on  the  ride  that  morning  that  he  was  in  a  fix.  He 
felt  sure,  from  Gladdie's  looks,  she  was  ready  to 
say  "yes"  to  a  vital  question,  but  he  found  he  was 
not  ready  to  put  it. 

He  suddenly  realized  that  he  was  a  fool  to 
play  with  fire  in  engaging  a  girl's  affections,  so 
that  she  had  consented  to  a  compromising  situa- 
tion, that  would  reflect  upon  her  honor  in  the  eyes 
of  a  cynical  world. 

"Why  have  I  to  do  that?  I  haven't  asked  Glad- 
die  to  marry  me,  and  I  don't  know  if  she  would," 
he  answered. 

Dr.  Glynn  roared  with  rage. 


2O4  Tenderfoot  Days 

"Well,  put  the  question,  and  be  quick  about  it! 
She's  got  to  say  yes!" 

Clarence  went  to  Gladdie,  but  like  a  woman, 
she  refused  to  see  him.  His  evident  unreadiness 
and  lack  of  ardor  in  his  suit  at  this  crisis  mortified 
her  mind  and  wounded  her  feelings. 

Her  father  went  to  see  her  and  she  said  to  him : 
"I  won't  be  forced  to  accept  any  man  in  this  way! 
Let  the  nasty  people  talk  if  they  must.  My  mind 
is  clean  of  any  fault." 

Now,  this  daughter  was  his  pet  and  pride  and 
he  could  not  be  cross  long  with  her,  and  soon  gave 
way  to  her  wishes.  The  young  woman  was 
wounded  at  Waterman's  indecision.  It  came  out, 
as  they  returned  by  train  that  afternoon,  that  he 
confessed  his  engagement  to  Ida  Gertrude  in  the 
East.  She  was  angry,  as  they  say,  "up  to  the 
hilt." 

"How  dare  you  play  with  me  in  this  way?  I 
hate  you  now;  don't  speak  to  me  again,"  said  the 
girl. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  they  rode  into  Salt  Lake 
City  both  as  miserable  as  disenchanted  mortals 
can  be.  Clarence  was  on  the  fence  and  could  not 
come  down  on  either  side.  He  could  not  break 
with  his  sweetheart,  and  he  could  not  propose  to 
Gladdie  when  it  came  to  the  pinch.  She  saw,  with 
a  woman's  quick  intuition,  the  situation  of  this  last 


A    Tenderfoot's   Romance  205 

admirer.  He  had  almost  won  her  love,  and  she 
resented  his  lack  of  courage  to  offer  himself  with 
the  ardor  of  a  lover. 

When  it  was  all  known  publicly,  through  the 
lightning  speed  of  gossip  which  carries  tattle 
faster  than  the  wind,  many  threats  against  Water- 
man were  heard. 

I  expected  some  one  of  the  cowboys  would  shoot 
him,  but  Dr.  Glynn  put  a  stop  to  all  that  by  grimly 
saying: 

"If  any  shooting  comes  off  I'll  do  it.  Don't  let 
me  hear  of  any  of  you  fellows  interfering,  unless 
you  want  me  to  take  a  shot  at  you ;  keep  off !" 

Finally  Clarence  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He 
wrote  to  Ida  Gertrude  and  told  her  the  whole 
story  and  asked  to  be  released.  Quickly  came 
back  by  an  early  mail  his  ring  with  no  word  in  the 
letter.  He  then  went  to  Gladys  Glynn  and  said 
that  he  was  free  to  ask  her  to  marry  him.  This 
he  did  before  her  father. 

"I  answer  you  no!"  she  said  with  snapping 
eyes.  "I  want  no  belated  lover,  such  as  you  have 
proved  to  be." 

"Cannot  you  forgive  me  and  let  me  keep  the 
talk  from  injuring  your  reputation?"  he  said. 

"I  can  forgive  you,  but  my  reputation  is  not  in 
need  of  your  help.  If  any  one  slanders  me  I,  too, 
can  shoot,  and  will  do  so." 


206  Tenderfoot  Days 

When  the  camp  knew  that  Clarence  had  the 
mitten  from  Miss  Gladys  there  was  a  great  laugh, 
much  joy  among  the  jealous  and  good  deal  of  chaff 
for  the  troubled  Waterman.  He  that  had  two 
strings  to  his  bow  a  little  while  before  now  was 
without  any  strings,  and  his  life  was  without  music. 
Thus  strangely  does  life  alter  our  outlook  in  a 
few  eventful  days. 

I  was  very  sorry  for  him  and  said,  "Let  me 
write  Ida  Gertrude  and  tell  her  just  the  facts.  If 
you  two  are  really  lovers  this  trouble  ought  to  be 
mended  in  some  way." 

"Well,  do  so  as  my  friend;  only  be  sure  to  put 
it  just  as  it  is,"  replied  Clarence. 

I  did  write  as  an  advocate  of  my  friend  and 
showed  the  innocence  of  both  parties.  That  it 
was  simply  a  case  of  youthful  imprudence.  That 
Clarence  was  very  sorry  that  he  had  been  carried 
away  by  a  charming  girl  and  that  his  inability  to 
love  her,  as  she  expected,  was  a  sign  that  his  love 
still  burned  true  for  Ida  Gertrude.  Could  not 
she  forgive  him?  If  she  was  as  much  in  love  with 
him  as  he  was  with  her,  she  should  not  let  a  just 
anger  and  some  pride  wreck  the  happiness  of  both. 

I  think  that  I  put  it  with  a  wisdom  almost  like 
Solomon's  and  it  worked  out  happily. 

Miss  Ida  wrote  me  that  she  supposed  the  West 
was  a  loose  living  place  and  that  Clarence  needed 


A    Tenderfoot's   Romance  207 

the  East  to  keep  him  true.  She  said  she  forgave 
him,  and  if  he  chose  to  write  her  she  was  willing 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

I  told  Clarence  this  and  he  brightened  up  at 
once.  I  think  that  his  Remington  typewriter  did 
some  good  work  about  that  time.  I  know  letters 
came  and  went. 

Not  long  afterwards  he  sold  his  broncho.  Next 
I  knew  he  had  resigned  his  office  and  was  no  longer 
a  tenderfoot  superintendent. 

"Dear  friend,"  he  said  to  me,  "you  did  me  a 
good  turn.  Ida  and  I  are  once  more  as  we  were  at 
first,  and  she  wears  my  ring.  I  expect  to  put  an- 
other ring  on  that  dear  finger  soon,  as  I  have  been 
offered  a  good  position  in  New  York  City.  I'm 
going  East  next  week." 

I  was  glad  to  hear  of  this  end  of  the  matter, 
but  was  sorry  to  see  him  go.  I  saw  him  off  at 
Salt  Lake  City.  Although  I  heard  of  his  mar- 
riage, a  year  later,  and  received  a  letter  or  two 
from  him,  I  never  met  him  afterwards. 

I  knew  that  he  was  happily  wedded  and  that  he 
was  in  good  shape  to  become  a  successful  business 
man  in  New  York  City. 

The  other  party  to  this  story  continued  her  out- 
door life,  admired  as  usual,  yet  strangely  cool  to 
all  lovers.  A  few  years  later  her  father  sold  out 
his  interests  and  went  to  California,  where  his 


208  Tenderfoot  Days 

daughter  entered  a  woman's  college  in  Oakland.  I 
heard  of  her  graduation.  She  was  a  bright  girl, 
and  is  now  the  charming  wife-companion  of  a  well 
known  university  professor  in  Berkeley. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  this  open  air  girt 
should  become  the  inmate  of  a  studious  home,  but 
life  runs  by  contrasts.  The  professor,  who  is  her 
adoring  husband,  found  in  her  active  personality 
just  the  foil  to  his  scholastic  gifts,  while  she  saw 
opening  to  her  a  world  of  letters,  as  new  and  as 
interesting  as  the  world  outdoors,  which  she  had 
in  her  youth  so  gracefully  championed  amid  camp 
and  cowboy  life. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MIND  AS   THE   MASTER   WORKER 

"Mind  is  the  great  lever  of  all  things;  human 
thought  is  the  process  by  which  human  ends  are 
ultimately  answered." 

Daniel  Webster 

IN  this  age  of  applied  psychology  it  is  interest- 
ing and  educative  to  note  the  mastery  of  mind 
over  matter  in  the  settlement,  by  civilized  people, 
of  the  wild  wastes  of  Utah  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Mormon  trek  across  the  plains.  Mind  was  domi- 
nant, later,  in  the  scientific  search  for,  and  recov- 
ery of,  the  mineral  values,  so  long  hidden  and 
useless,  in  the  mountains  of  the  territory. 

The  interaction  of  these  two  forces,  the  mental 
and  the  physical,  produce  the  evolution  and  there- 
by the  development  of  a  country  and  its  people. 
Then  comes  wealth,  comfort,  ease,  and  further 
exercise  of  mind  to  its  higher  possibilities.  When 
life  is  low-graded  and  the  human  mind  content  to 
grub  in  the  ground  or  to  hunt  wild  animals  for  a 

209 


2io  Tenderfoot  Days 

living,  a  land  remains  the  habitat  of  wild  people. 

A  mind  of  a  higher  grade  was  the  main  asset 
of  the  white  discoverers  of  America.  Their  supe- 
rior weapons,  skill  and  transportation  were  en- 
tirely due  to  the  advance  of  mind  from  the  times 
of  the  dark  ages.  The  early  voyagers  from  Norse- 
land,  in  their  open-decked  ships,  were  hardy  sea- 
men, but  they  brought  no  advancement  to  the  new 
continent,  since  these  rude  warriors  had  no  mind 
above  fighting  and  despoiling  their  foes. 

All  that  was  unfamiliar  to  them  in  human  life 
was  regarded  as  an  enemy  to  be  overcome  by 
force.  It  was  the  Era  of  Might,  and  the  one  of 
the  most  Might  was  Right,  because  he  won.  The 
barbarian  era  has,  at  all  times,  been  hard  to  super- 
sede, and  even  in  these  days  of  supposed  "Kul- 
tur"  there  are  strong  advocates  of  a  reversion  to 
type  of  the  old  Norse  Vikings,  Attila  the  Hun,  or 
Caesar  and  his  legions. 

We  do  not  affirm  that  the  mentality  of  the  Mor- 
mon leaders  was  very  high.  These  leaders  were 
men  of  keen  wit  but  of  little  culture,  judged  by 
their  speeches  and  writings,  while  the  people  in 
general  were  very  commonplace.  They  had  a 
few  scholars  who  occupied  a  back  seat,  for  the 
men  of  action  and  administration  were  the  real 
shapers  of  history  in  Utah. 

Of  course  the  mentality  found  in  the  religious 


Mind  as  the  Master  Worker          211 

faith  of  the  people  was  due  to  a  religious  genius 
like  Joseph  Smith.  If  you  consider  a  moment  this 
young  man  at  the  beginning  of  his  mission,  un- 
known and  obscure,  yet  possessing  an  inner  men- 
tal purpose  and  power  sufficient  to  win  over  by 
words,  declarations,  arguments  and  exhortations  a 
host  of  hard-headed  Eastern  and  Western  people, 
you  will  see  at  once  the  power  of  mind  when  it  is 
illumined  by  a  purpose  born  of  faith  in  a  revela- 
tion from  a  higher  Power. 

The  emerging  of  Joseph  Smith  from  obscurity 
to  notoriety,  as  the  American  Prophet  of  a  new 
faith,  reads  like  that  of  the  emerging  of  Mo- 
hammed, an  uninfluential  and  epileptic  young  man, 
amid  the  turbulent  tribes  of  Arabia  when  he  be- 
came the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  to  the  Arabians, 
as  Abraham  became  the  same  to  the  Hebrews.  All 
three  characters  are  graphic  illustrations  of  the 
mastery  of  the  mind. 

It  does  not  follow  that  an  enthusiasm  and  de- 
votion which  carries  one  to  the  death  is  proof  of 
the  cause  advocated.  It  does  prove  the  sincerity 
and  earnestness  of  the  advocate  making  the  sacri- 
fice. 

Many  good  people  have  perished  in  a  poor 
cause  which  they  thought  sublime.  Delusions  of 
mind  distort  its  visions,  but  not  its  powers.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  the  exalted  fanaticism  of  the 


212  Tenderfoot  Days 

early  Mormons  carried  them  on  to  strenuous 
deeds,  and  yet  did  not  impair  their  powers  of  com- 
mon sense.  They  could  subdue  a  wild  country  and 
learn  to  utilize  its  hidden  wealth. 

We  are  prone  to  think  it  all  bad,  when  some 
part  of  a  delusion  obsesses  a  race  or  generation.  If 
this  were  true  the  Mohammedan  illusion  would 
be  rotten  from  core  to  circumference.  Some  in- 
tense people  so  assert,  but  such  is  not  true,  as  calm 
reflection  shows.  A  fine  civilization  existed  in 
Spain  under  the  Mohammedan  Moors  for  seven 
centuries,  superior  in  art  and  science  to  the  ruder 
life  of  both  Franks  and  Teutons. 

So,  while  the  products  of  Joseph  Smith's  visions 
and  declarations  were  often  erratic  and  fanatic, 
nevertheless  much  honest-hearted  goodness  in 
word  and  deed  is  in  evidence  if  you  are  fair  enough 
to  look  for  it.  I  found  it  to  be  so,  and  I  aflirm 
that  the  mental  influence  of  this  Latter  Day  faith 
had  a  constructive  power  to  establish  on  barren 
ground  and  amid  the  rude  forces  of  nature,  a 
settlement  of  homes  and  firesides  devoted  to  re- 
ligion and  to  an  honest  life.  Putting  by  the  ex- 
tremes of  an  ecstatic  people,  it  is  undeniable  that 
they  excelled  in  usefulness  as  light  excels  darkness 
the  roving  Indian  aborigines. 

When  I  walked  about  that  modern  Zion  of  Salt 
Lake,  "and  told  the  homes  and  streets  thereof," 


Mind  as  the  Master  Worker          213 

I  could  not  fail  to  read  the  evidence  of  the  power 
of  mind  over  matter  which  had  built  a  city  where 
the  Indian's  wikiup  had  stood  and  had  made 
farms  out  of  land  whose  only  products  once  were 
sage-brush  and  reptiles. 

Still,  the  Mormon  mind  was  not  scientific,  but 
ecstatic,  and  walked  by  faith,  although  it  had  the 
common  sense  to  work  by  sight.  It  was  a  fine  mo- 
tive force  to  lift  to  higher  levels  the  lives  of  multi- 
tudes otherwise  inert,  and  to  put  the  spade  or  hoe 
of  industry  into  idle  hands.  It  redeemed  a  waste. 

Utah  would  not  have  advanced  to  her  present 
prosperity  and  power  had  not  another  kind  of 
mentality  sought  out  its  treasures.  It  may  seem 
a  sordid  motive  to  seek  for  gold  and  silver  in  place 
of  seeking  for  the  sanctuary  and  salvation.  Yet 
such  a  sordid  search  has  invariably  preceded  the 
higher  development  of  a  country.  Trade  has  its 
argonauts  and  argosies  which  in  the  end  serve 
for  higher  things. 

With  minds  alert  for  mineral  treasure,  men 
drifted  into  the  Territory,  at  first  a  few,  and  later 
on  with  a  rush  to  supplement  the  civilizing  work 
of  the  Mormons.  To  some  their  advent  seemed 
a  destructive  one,  for  they  were  not  religious,  and 
scoffed  at  the  religion  of  the  Mormons.  They 
pointed  out  its  weak,  if  not  wicked  elements,  and 
laughed  in  derision  of  such  a  faith.  They  were 


214  Tenderfoot  Days 

a  rude  lot  of  humanity,  and  the  Mormons  coun- 
tered back  with  accusations  of  their  profanity  and 
immorality.  These  rough-living  miners,  unknown 
to  themselves,  were  the  advertisers  of  a  coming 
superior  mental  culture,  which  would  do  much 
for  Utah's  future. 

When  I  saw  the  skilled  miner,  and  the  skilled 
mineralogist  at  work  with  their  machinery,  as 
nicely  fitted  for  its  task  as  a  watch's  mechanism, 
I  saw  the  mastery  of  mind  over  minerals,  as  I 
had  seen  it  over  men.  Whose  eyes  saw  and  whose 
purpose  sought  out  this  secreted  wealth?  It  was 
the  scientific  miner,  the  chemist,  the  mineralogist, 
the  capitalist,  the  economist  and  publicist.  One 
and  all,  they  united  their  heads  and  hands  to  do 
it.  Of  the  wealth  that  they  won  from  the  rocks, 
some  of  it  is  in  banks,  some  in  ships,  some  in  news- 
papers, some  in  books,  and  some  in  great  indus- 
trial plants.  Little  of  it  is  lying  idle,  for  the  men 
who  made  this  wealth  were  not  idlers.  Both  Gen- 
tile and  Mormon  have  had  a  hand  in  the  making 
of  a  State  and  a  Star  in  the  constellation  of  the 
Union. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  LATTER  DAY  VIEW  OF  A  LATTER  DAY  STATE 

"Often  do  the  spirits  of  great  events  stride  on 
before  the  events,  and  in  to-day  already,  walks  to- 
morrow." Coleridge 
Etancrr 

1  REMEMBER  that  it  was  the  great  fear  of 
the  Gentile  and  liberal  element  in  the  Terri- 
tory, that  if  the  United  States  Congress  gave  state- 
hood to  the  people,  a  return  to  the  old  order  of 
religious  and  political  tyranny  would  begin.  That 
in  due  time  the  newer  element  would  be  driven 
out  by  the  usual  political  methods,  or  a  terrorism 
reign,  like  that  in  the  Southern  States  over  the 
colored  voter. 

Statehood  came  in  due  course,  but  none  of  the 
fears  of  the  Liberals  were  realized.  The  people 
seemed  to  have  caught  the  free  spirit  of  a  free 
country  and  realized  that  they  were  a  part  of  a 
great  and  growing  republic.  They  immediately 
divided  on  all  political  questions  into  the  two  great 
party  organizations,  the  Republican  and  the 

215 


216  Tenderfoot  Days 

Democratic.  Their  religious  affiliations  did  not 
override  their  party  affiliations,  as  a  general  rule, 
and  the  great  bugaboo  of  the  alarmists  was  gone 
like  a  nightmare  dream.  Utah  had  come  to  its 
own  consciousness  of  popular  life,  and  had  decided 
that  everything  should  go  along  on  normal  and 
popular  lines.  The  worth  of  commercial  and  re- 
ligious interests  should  be  decided,  solely,  by  the 
merits  of  the  interests  involved,  and  the  prefer- 
ences of  a  free  people. 

Thus  many  found  their  fears  to  be  no  more 
real  than  worries.  The  reformers  found  reform 
was  still  alive,  and  vital  enough  to  make  for  bet- 
ter things.  The  reactionaries  found  past  bitter- 
nesses were  hardly  at  home  in  the  bosoms  of  a 
newer  generation. 

Some  abnormal  conditions,  like  polygamy,  died 
slowly,  since  the  welfare  and  rights  of  wives  and 
children  could  not  be  ruthlessly  disregarded.  Time 
is  always  softer  hearted,  in  human  history,  than 
the  extremist  and  reformer.  So  we  note  how  time 
allowed  a  revelation  to  come,  through  the  proper 
way,  and  it  was  announced  that  it  was  no  longer 
an  "order  of  Heaven"  to  live  one's  religion  in 
the  bonds  of  polygamous  marriage.  It  gradually 
declined,  but  of  course,  being  a  social  condition, 
its  actual  cessation  took  some  time.  It  is  about 
dead,  at  this  writing,  save  in  a  few  isolated  cases, 


A  Latter  Day  View  of  a  Latter  Day  State     217 

contra  leges,  and  this  is  found  in  every  well  con- 
ducted country.  There  are  always  law  breakers 
of  some  sort,  but  the  law  always  prevails  until 
war  or  revolution  breaks  the  peace. 

No  such  effort  was  made  to  fight  for  polygamy 
as  was  made  for  slavery  for  the  simple  reason  that 
no  money  value  was  at  stake  in  the  former  "twin 
relic  of  barbarism,"  while  it  was  very  prominent 
in  the  latter.  A  man's  "niggers"  brought  him  in 
money  while  a  man's  wives  cost  him  a  great  deal 
of  money.  So  the  Mohammedan  tinge  to  the  Ter^ 
ritory  died  out  when  statehood  was  fully  estab- 
lished. Those  who  had  invested  in  polygamy  and 
were  deeply  involved  as  to  character  and  social 
standing  through  its  practice,  fought  even  to  the 
floor  of  the  United  States  Senate  for  its  existence 
and  "their  right."  Nothing  harsh  was  done  to  the 
offenders  for  the  reason  that  this  condition  was 
due  to  previous  religious  convictions  and  teaching; 
but  it  was  very  soon  evident  that  Utah,  like  other 
states,  must  be  monogamous  in  its  domestic  life 
in  harmony  with  the  custom  of  the  country. 

Some  foolish  people  who  persisted,  as  they  will 
in  anything  religious  that  conflicts  with  the  State, 
in  the  practice  of  polygamy,  found  themselves  un- 
der arrest  and  in  prison  where  they  posed  as  mar- 
tyrs of  religious  persecution.  Some  people  pitied 
them,  but  the  majority  laughed  at  them  since  this 


218  Tenderfoot  Days 

was  at  the  close  of  the  Nineteenth  Century^  and 
was  not  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

Thus  the  years,  and  the  "Age-Patience, "  which 
with  the  "Time-Spirit"  does  wonderful  things  for 
us,  shelved  this  heated  question,  and  it  faded  away 
like  the  light  of  a  day  that  is  dead.  The  mixed  mul- 
titude was  the  agent  of  the  change.  The  fanatical 
cannot  last  long  where  isolation  ends,  and  contact 
with  the  world  begins.  Here  is  the  reason  for  the 
call  of  the  zealot,  "Come  out  of  her,  my  peo- 
ple!" whether  that  call  be  voiced  by  a  Hebrew 
of  the  Hebrews,  like  Isaiah,  or  a  Christian  like 
Athanasius,  who  gloried  in  standing  "contra  mun- 
dum,"  or  an  ecclesiast  like  Torquemada,  opponent 
of  all  heretics,  or  a  Brigham  Young  against  a  mod- 
ern world.  Religion,  if  it  is  to  live,  must  live 
right  up  against  the  world  in  which  it  lives,  and 
mellow  it  with  good  living.  It  will  surely  die  if  it 
hides  itself  in  monastic  cloisters,  beneath  a  nun's 
garments,  or  rejects  the  law  of  the  monogamous 
life,  the  while  men  and  women  are  being  born  in 
just  equal  numbers  all  over  the  habitable  world. 

Now  view  this  state  as  a  place  to  live  in.  It 
is  a  goodly  land  since  its  soil  is  of  the  richest.  I 
used  fairly  to  ache,  when  my  horse's  feet  turned  up 
the  finest  garden  ground,  growing  only  sage  brush, 
on  the  mesa  or  bench-land  about  the  base  of  the 
mountain  ranges.  I  am  an  agriculturist  in  my 


A  Latter  Day  View  of  a  Latter  Day  State     219 

tastes,  and  it  seemed  such  a  waste  for  all  this  soil 
to  produce  no  more  than  coarse  brush.  Of  course, 
the  rainfall  was  too  meagre  for  "dry-farming," 
as  they  then  thought.  It  can  be  done,  and  is  be- 
ing done,  in  these  days  of  the  more  scientific  cul- 
ture of  the  soil.  The  snow-water  of  the  great 
ranges  is  ample  for  the  cultivation  of  every  foot 
of  good  ground,  if  conserved  in  reservoirs,  until 
the  heated  season  calls  for  its  use.  Here  is  where 
capital  and  science  can  double  Utah's  acreage. 

Then  think  of  the  climate  of  this  land.  There 
is  just  enough  winter  to  put  "glame"  into  the  at- 
mosphere. Bright  days  and  a  generous  sunlight 
paint  everything  richly  vivid.  The  oxygen  of  the 
hills  makes  the  eyes  sparkle,  the  blood  to  flush 
the  cheeks  redly,  and  gives  the  hands  the  grip 
which  full  labor  requires.  The  very  grain  grown 
feels  this  climatic  impulse,  and  the  flour  of  Utah 
wheat  has  a  golden  tint,  shown  in  the  bread-loaf, 
and  tasted  in  its  good  flavor.  The  fruits  too,  nota- 
bly the  peaches  and  apples,  have  a  taste  out-rival- 
ing such  products  in  California. 

More  than  soil  and  climate  and  the  fruits  of 
their  union  are  visible  in  Utah's  future.  Uncle 
Sam  has  a  pocket-book  in  its  mountain  ranges.  A 
clasp  holds  the  contents  very  tightly:  gravity  has 
its  strong  hand  on  these  treasures.  Still  Industry, 
Understanding,  Patience,  Skill,  and  Capital,  are 


220  Tenderfoot  Days 

the  five  fingers  of  another  hand  which  can  un- 
clasp this  hold  of  gravity  on  these  hills,  and  allow 
the  wealth  to  pour  out,  in  such  rich  recoveries  of 
ore  as  have  made  Bingham  and  Big  Cottonwood 
Canyons  famous.  There  is  enough  in  Utah  to 
keep  generations  busy  with  the  soil  and  water  and 
with  the  pocketed  ores  of  the  hills.  Such  industry 
will  make  comfortable,  and  therefore  happy,  my- 
riads of  homes  to  be  established  in  this  state. 

So  wide  a  physical  outlook  should  have  a  coun- 
terpart in  a  metaphysical  one.  The  mind  of  the 
people,  in  this  age  of  free  mentality,  should  also 
expand  to  consider  and  solve  great  questions  of 
intellectual,  philosophical,  social  and  religkms  im- 
portance. All  these  realms  of  mind  are  necessary 
to  make  a  population  worthy  of  the  land  which 
they  inhabit,  and  out  of  whose  generous  bosom 
they  draw  their  physical  life. 

Yet  what  is  physical  life  worth,  if  it  does  not 
give  the  opportunity  to  climb  higher  to  those  meta- 
physical realities  which  lie  back  of,  and  are  the 
cause  of,  these  physical  appearances.  We  say 
that  we  see,  we  touch,  we  taste,  and  so  these  things, 
sensible  to  us,  are  real.  But  we  know  that  these 
things  change  and  decay.  All  this  phenomenal  ex- 
istence, with  its  display  of  beauty,  power  and  pro- 
duction, is  for  the  use  of  the  minds  which  are 
superior  to  these  phases  of  matter. 


A  Latter  Day  Fiew  of  a  Latter  Day  State     221 

Utah,  rich  in  material  wealth  to  come,  should 
also  produce  a  richer  metaphysical  wealth,  in  the 
mental  and  moral  intelligence  of  the  people,  and 
that  acquisition  will  entitle  them  to  be  called,  of 
a  truth,  the  Saints  of  the  Latter  Days. 


